


Sometime Around Midnight

by pleasanthell



Category: Glee
Genre: F/F, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-08-23
Updated: 2012-08-24
Packaged: 2017-11-12 18:21:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 41
Words: 190,289
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/494264
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pleasanthell/pseuds/pleasanthell
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A few years after graduation and only a few of them managed to escape Lima. Quinn is not one of the few. She knew she was destined to be here forever, she just never knew how much she would hate it. But after an unexpected trip her life takes a new turn.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

"You don't belong with Finn or Puck or me or anyone in this stupid ass podunk town! You're going to do great things. We'll just tie you down. We're not going anywhere. You're going up. We'll look you up for our high school reunion and we'll have to schedule it around you and your Broadway shows. Just leave it alone. Go home and get packed. You're getting out of here. We're not."

You stand at the kitchen sink, rinsing off the dishes from dinner. You wonder how your life got like this. This was all part of your plan, but you didn't plan to hate it. You resented the cute little two-bedroom house with its privacy fence. You resent the little silver Honda in the driveway that you drive to work. You resent your job at Lima Real Estate Company where you're the second highest grossing agent there. You resent that that still doesn't make you a lot of money because it's still Lima Fucking Ohio.

You thought children would make it easier and for a while you two tried but after a few months and a doctor's visit you find that he's shooting blanks. You never spoke of having children with him again.

As the water runs down the sink, you wonder what happen to your plans. You were going to stay here for a while and then do something amazing. She weren't quite sure what that was yet, but it was going to come to you in a stroke of genius and soon the whole world would know the name Quinn Fabray.

But you're still standing at your sink, rinsing the teriyaki chicken residue off of your plate. Then you rinse if off his plate. Your teeth clench together because even after all the times you've asked him to, he doesn't stop scraping his fork against the plates your got at your wedding and now it's starting to wear the green flowers off of the tan plate.

You can't help, but think this marriage was over before it started. He was convenient and it was expected of you. Your sister got married straight out of high school and so did you. Now you realize it was a mistake. A mistake that's been festering for four years. You both know it but neither one of you will bring it up. You'll yell and tell him that he's not trying hard enough. He'll yell at you and tell you that he doesn't know what you want because you never want to talk to him.

"This isn't working." His voice is quiet.

You wonder how he could tell what you were thinking, but you're not going to look a gift horse in the mouth. You've been too scared to bring this up and since he did, you sigh and say, "I know."

His voice is tired and emotionless, "Then why didn't you tell me?"

"I didn't-" You turn around for the confrontation that has been building up in your mind for years. Then you see that he's holding the mantle clock, tinkering with it - trying to fix it. He's talking about the clock.

You sigh again, this time out of disappointment and turn back to the dishes, "I don't know."  
The next day at work they offer to pay for you to go to New York City for a few days for a national real estate agent conference because the top real estate agent came down with mono. Even though it's next week, you jump at it because any chance to get out of Lima is a good one.

The conference is the perfect excuse to get away, to get out of town, to get a grip. Waking up next to him, going to work, coming home, making dinner, and falling asleep next to him... It makes you shudder thinking about it but you do it everyday and you want to vomit.

Once in you're alone in your office you smile to yourself. She's in New York City. You slide behind her desk and shake the mouse to wake up the monitor. You Google her name a couple times a week at work just to see what she's up to, who she's been dating, that she's doing well. She is doing well. She always is.

So you call up Santana and ask if her couch is still open. She tells you that you can sleep in the spare room because they can't keep a roommate (for reasons you know but just smile at). She's been using it as a study but you're welcome to it for however long you want it.

Finn took it well when you told him you'd be gone. A little too well and maybe he was a little relieved. When you get back you decide to put him out of his misery. You'll call one of the few lawyers in town and get the proper papers. You know he'll stay with you out of obligation but you can't do that to him anymore.  
He drops you off at the airport and you give him a small smile. He smiles back and tells you to have a good time. You roll your eyes because how much fun can a real estate conference be? He chuckles and kisses you. It's a peck on the lips and it's comforting because you haven't done anything more than this in almost five months.

When he gets in the car he waves before you turn around and walk into the airport. You check your purse for your tickets. The plane tickets and the ones to the show you decided to see. Of course it's her show, but if anyone asks you heard good things about it and had no idea she'd been playing the lead female role for two months and a week. Because that's not something that people know off the top of their heads, you especially.

The play is this evening and you're giddy. You know that you'll be missing the introduction seminar but how much fun can a bunch of people discussing square footage and granite countertops be?

When you land Santana is at the airport, waiting for you nursing a cup of coffee. It's early and you told her that you'd be okay taking a cab, but she insisted. She smiles and gives you a hug. You notice that she looks tired and you tell her so.

"I have a huge test coming up," she sighs and starts leading the way out to the parking garage.

You rub her arm and give her an encouraging smile. "It's only like three more years right?"

"Ugh," she rubs her eyes, "Don't remind me." She shakes her head, "Anyway, how's Lima?"

You don't really want to talk about it so you give her the shortest answer you can, "It's still Lima."

"When are you going to move out here?" she unlocks her car and opens the trunk for you to put your bags in.

All you give her is a half-hearted shrug. If you thought it was if at all possible, you'd already live here. But Finn can't make a decent living up here and the New York City real estate market is difficult, if not impossible to break into without the proper connections. And your real estate connections out side of Lima total to zero.

"Nice ride," you chuckle when you noticed the butterfly air freshener hanging from the rearview mirror.

"I don't actually own a car smartass," Santana explains with a gentle smile.

You know whose car it is. You just like to tease her. It would be so easy for her to tease you about your situation, but she doesn't and you're grateful. "Where is your better half?"

"She's at work," Santana offers. You see a hint of sadness in her eyes. In your frequent phone calls, she tells you that they almost never see each other. It breaks your heart because you've never met anyone more perfect for each other and who actually love being around each other.

When you get to her apartment, you find it exactly like the pictures she sent you when she was redecorating. She walks to the guest room and you find that there are books piled up everywhere, but the bed and nightstand are clear.

"I'm sorry about the mess," she takes a deep breath, "I meant to clean it, but I lose all kinds of time when I'm studying."

"It's perfect," you smile because anything is better than the disgusting mattresses and sheets of a hotel. You watch way too much TV, mostly because it fills in the silence between you and Finn, and one night you saw a special about how badly hotel rooms actually get cleaned. From then on you've either brought your own sheets or insisted on staying with friends or relatives.

She yawns, but tries to cover it up with her hand. "Is there anything you wanted to see that you haven't seen yet?"

"You say that like I come here all the time," you place your bags by the bed and follow her to the living room, "I haven't seen anything except for the time we came out here for Nationals in high school."

"If you would have snuck out with us you would have seen a lot more," she smirked.

You shake your head and push some of your blonde hair out of your eyes. You would have snuck out with them, had Rachel not been your roommate at the hotel. This was your chance to get to see her up close and watch how she did normal everyday things. You told everyone that you didn't go because Rachel would have ratted on you, but you wanted to make the most of your time left with the rising star. She spent most of the night lecturing you on one topic or another, but you didn't mind contrary to popular belief. You would have listened to her talk for days if you didn't think she would pass out.

"What time is the show?" Santana asks because she's going with you.

You pull the tickets out of your purse like you hadn't already memorized the entire thing. After a beat you answer, "Four."

"I keep forgetting how early weekend shows can be," Santana falls back on the couch and takes another sip of her coffee, "Well we can get dressed and go have lunch before the show. It'll be dark by the time we get out and maybe Brit can meet us for dinner." She picked up her cell phone and dialed who you assume to be Brittany.

You walk over to the window in the living room while she's on the phone. Below you are people walking up and down the streets. You muse that the population of Lima wouldn't amount to the people that you could see out the window.

"You are?" Santana asks, sounding excited. You haven't been listening to her conversation, but when her volume grew you turn around to take notice. She's grinning from ear to ear. Then her eyes flicker up and see you. Her smile fades and her posture slumps a little, "I'm sorry babe, I'm going to a show with Quinn…"

You stride over to the couch and take the phone from Santana. Brittany is saying something, but you interrupt her, "Santana would love to."

"Quinn?" Brittany's voice asks in your ear.

"Hey Brittany," you smile at the sound of her voice. She doesn't sound like she's changed at all. You're happy that even the Big Apple couldn't jade the bubbly blonde.

"Are you sure Q?" she asks innocently.

"Of course," you answer. It's not even a question. Just because you're relationship sucks doesn't mean theirs should too.

"Maybe we can meet for dinner," Brittany suggests and you immediately agree. You hand the phone back to Santana who says a quick goodbye.

Santana looks you over and you can feel it. You love and hate her extremely scrutinizing eyes at all at the same time. "Are you sure? I mean, you're only going to be here for a few days."

"You never get to see her," you shake your head, leaving no room for argument, "You need some quality time. This way I'm gone for a few hours so I don't have to hear the reason you two can't keep a roommate. We can meet for dinner or something."

She stands up and pulls you into a hug, "Thanks Q. We need this."

You nod understandingly and hold Santana to you. This is probably the most human contact you've had in months. It's nice.

You two meet Brittany at the deli down the street for lunch. She wraps you in a fierce hug and you laugh because you love Brittany and the way she hugs.

"I've missed you so much," she tells you and pulls back to look at you, "You really need to come up here more often."

"Or you guys could come back more often," you joke. Brittany scrunches up her nose and Santana chuckles.

"I'd rather cut off my-" Santana paused and shook her head with a laugh, "I almost said something really nerdy."

"Phalanges?" Brittany teased her and gently bumped Santana's shoulder. They kiss and you smile wider because you love the look of love. You wonder what it feels like before they direct their attention at you.

Brittany asks you questions about anything and everything that's going on in your life. You carefully sidestep the ones about your marriage and try not to make Lima sound like the hellhole that you feel it is. You know Santana has noticed and is thoughtfully swirling a French fry in her ketchup.

After Brittany entertains everyone with stories of work and just her general life, you tell them that you have to go. They both hug you and Brittany waves off your offer to pay.

When you pause at the door to make sure your purse is closed, you glance back at them. They're smiling at each other, pure love in their eyes. You smile sadly and walk onto the busy street.

You've learned from your many phone conversations with Santana the proper cab hailing technique and you're sitting in one within minutes. New York City amazes you in a why that you can't describe. The buildings and the people are just superficial fascinations. You love the colors of the city. The dull building in contrast with the bright signs. You love the street performers peddling their talent and the mini boutiques set up on the side of the road where you can buy just about anything for the right price. You love that you don't know what those two guys are doing when they walk into the alley because it lends to the mystery of the city. The place where anything could happen.

You arrive at the theatre almost an hour early, but you're eager and can't stand to think of what would happen there was an accident and you were late. You're allowed to take your seat when you arrive and are glad to find that you have the perfect view of the entire stage.

You're whole body is buzzing with the knowledge that she's somewhere behind those curtains. Perhaps doing a pre-show ritual. Perhaps lounging around backstage, joking with her co-stars. Perhaps reclining in a chair while people fuss over her make up and hair. It's like you can feel her.

In fact, you become so wrapped up in this feeling that you don't notice that everyone else has taken their seats until the lights go down.

Excitement surges through your whole body. You hope that you'll recognize her. You hope that the people around you don't talk because you'll have to punch them if they interrupt one of her lines.

Then she walks out into the stage and everything else fades out. You can't actually make out the little details of her face because you are just a mere Lima, Ohio real estate agent and these tickets were expensive to begin with but you know it's her. Her voice is unmistakable. You're rapt with her entire performance. You probably didn't blink while she was on the stage. It was all so magical for you.

When she show was over, you were among the last to leave the theatre. You didn't want to break the spell of the play, but when the janitors started to sweep up, the moment was gone. You guess you should call Santana and see if the two are ready for dinner. Then you realize what you'd be doing if the love of your life that you only saw here and there was home early from work. You decide to do something that you weren't sure you had the guts for yet before interrupting them.

You stand across the street from the backstage door that you know she'll be walking out of. You see the people crowded around the gate and let out a smile. It's hard not to be proud of her. She made her dreams come true and you like to think you showed her the way out of black hole that is Lima.

When she walks out your heart stops. The years have done nothing harsh to her. If nothing else they have given her a beautiful maturity. Her long black coat waves with the light wind and the people that walk out behind her fan out to either side of her. She's more stunning than you remember and it takes a minute for you to realize that she's staring back. Her pen is poised to sign an autograph, the breeze blowing her hair out of her face, while her brown eyes are staring right back at you.

Everything around you turns surreal. It blurs and the sounds melt into one whirling noise that fills your ears. You know at that moment that you don't have the guts to do what you wanted to do.

You watch her quickly finish the autograph and break away from the crowd. She can't stop your feet from starting down the sidewalk. It's too much so you do what you've become so good at, walk away.

Unfortunately you get disoriented at the next street corner and you feel a hand on your sleeve. You know its her even before she says, "Quinn, don't think you'll get away without saying hi."


	2. Chapter 2

Unfortunately you get disoriented at the next street corner and you feel a hand on your sleeve. You know its her even before she says, "Quinn, don't think you'll get away without saying hi."

You put on a smile and turn around. You do something else that comes easily: lie, "You looked busy, I didn't want to interrupt."

"Nonsense Quinn," She grins and your knees go weak, "What are you doing here? Are you busy? Do you have time for coffee or a drink or something?"

You chuckle because she's still adorable when she babbles. "I have time."

You find yourself sitting in a crowded, yet quiet bar a few blocks away nursing a Cosmo and recounting your horrifically mundane existence in the smallest amount of time possible.

"Have you kept up with anyone from McKinley?" she asked, leaning forward. You can smell her perfume and you take a moment to just let it engulf you, "besides Finn of course."

You nod. You've kept up with everyone because you chose to live in the past when the present and future are the same as they were last week, "Puck is a roofer in Lima, still single and hangs out at my house way too much." Rachel smiles and your insides melt, "Santana is in Med School at Columbia."

"Here?" Rachel's eyes widened. You've missed her reactions and her overreactions.

You nod, "She just moved here from California where she got her undergrad."

"What about Brittany?" Rachel asked, sipping her drink, "I've seen her around at auditions and industry parties. What's she up to?"

"She's a choreographer," You answer, running your finger over the rim of your glass, "Right now she's super busy with a show that's about to make it's Broadway debut."

"That's so awesome for her," You notice how Rachel is eagerly investing in this conversation and you're over the moon about it, "Do she and Santana know they live in the same city?"

"They live in the same apartment. In the same bed." You smirk, thinking about that they're doing now in said bed.

Rachel giggled, "I knew it! For how long?"

"Uh not quite a year. They were out of touch for a while before Santana got into Columbia and needed somewhere to stay. From what I hear they were roommates for a while before they were friends again and it's not like they could ever be just friends." You leaned on the table and take a mental survey of her face in case you never see her again, which you know is a real possibility.

Rachel let out a dreamy smile that she used to have when thinking about Broadway in high school. "That's so romantic. I wish I would have ended up with someone from high school. Not like immediately after high school because you're right I would have ended up," she eyes you because she trying to find a tactful way to say Lima loser.

So you just come out and say it. "A Lima loser," you shrug. You know that's what you are and accepted it a long time ago. You're not happy about it but the label doesn't bother you anymore.

She reaches across the table and puts her hand on yours. She unknowingly sets your whole body on fire by the small touch. "From what you've told me, you're successful. You aren't a loser Quinn."

You smile softly to humor her but know that you are in fact a Lima loser who hates her job, her marriage and her life.

She must have seen the embarrassment in your face because she changes the subject, "How's it going with Finn?"

Your eyes find the table and run along the grains trying to gather yourself up enough to put on a convincing front. You feel guilty for stealing Finn away from her although it was for her own good and you feel guilty that you've kept him on the hook for this long when neither one of you has been happy in a really long time.

Of course she sees right through it. "Oh Quinn, I'm sure it'll work out."

You sadly shake her head. You feel lightheaded from a combination of the alcohol and her hand that still hasn't left yours, "It won't. I knew it never would."

She tilted her head, her hair falling out of her face. There is no judgment in her eyes and it tears you apart, "Then why did you do it?"

"I'm sure there are a lot of reasons but... I was more in love with the idea of him than him. I hate Lima. I hate my house and my job...my mom tells me it'll all go away but... I don't want my mom's life." You're not sure why you're telling her, but it feels good to tell someone. To know that someone else knows you're in pain.

She thoughtfully runs her teeth over her bottom lip, "You're getting a divorce?"

You slowly nod trying to keep your tears at bay. You order a water in an attempt to sober up so you don't make a fool out of yourself any more than you already have. You withdraw your hand from under hers and twist your wedding ring around your finger, "I'm sorry to push all this on you. It seems like an odd thing to do especially because we haven't seen each other in years."

She lets out a kind smile and pats your knee, "It's not a problem Quinn. Friendship rolls over every year."

Her smile and touch do make you feel better and you take a sip of your water in an effort to think of something to say.

But before you think of anything, she suddenly asked, "Why don't you move here?" She has a grin on her face like she just thought of the greatest idea ever.

You look at her with a thankful smile, "I don't have a job here or anywhere to live. I don't think the New York real estate agents would warm up to me without some sort of established track record. And I couldn't pay rent until I have income."

"Sell my apartment to prove that you know what your doing to the real estate firms in Manhattan," Rachel offered, "and I'm sure you could live with Santana or me after I move. C'mon Quinn. Life's too short to be miserable."

 _But I'm so good at it_ you think before you politely smile, "I can't. My mom is still in Lima and-"

She waves her hand at you, "Excuses, excuses. I talk to my dads at least once a day and frequently Skype with them. I fly down there at least once every two months."

You frown because you had no idea she was ever in town. If you would have known you would have…well you would have had the tingling feeling of knowing she was within a hundred miles from you as well as the chance to see her from afar. Maybe you'd show a house or two in her dads' neighborhood even though it's not what your clients were looking for just so you could drive by and see if she was there.

She lets out a sigh and it interrupts your thoughts. She quietly adds, "I understand that maybe New York is not your kind of place. I'm just trying to give you an option. The best parts of life are the options. Here or there, yes or no, in or out." She added with an apologetic smile, "I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable."

You realize that the look on your face of disappointment could be construed as uncomfortable and defensive. You immediately correct her, "I was just thinking."

"About?" she prods which you don't expect.

As your mind scrambles for something to say, your mouth says the first thing it can, "Real estate." Then you scrunch up your nose because that was so not smooth.

She laughs at your expression and you'd make it again millions of times just to hear her laugh.

"Oh gosh it's getting late," she says as she absently picks up her phone to check the time.

You nod, "I guess I should let you get to bed. A performance that amazing has got to be exhausting."

"You saw the show?" her mouth gapes open in disbelief.

Her expression is so cute and you can't help, but giggle, "Of course I did."

A blush creeps up her cheeks and you narrow your eyes, studying a reaction you certainly didn't expect. She ducks her head with a shy smile, "Did you like it?"

"It's was phenomenal," you assure her and wonder how she could think that she could produce anything that wasn't.

After just looking at each other for a moment, she shakes her head and slides off of her stool, "Do you want to split a cab?"

You nod, thankful that you'll be spending at least a few more minutes with her. Once outside a rush of cold air hits you both and she huddles against your side against the wind. You automatically slide your arm around her, trying to keep her warm. However you can feel her tense under your arm. Your eyes shoot down to her as you try to ascertain what she's thinking. Her eyes are questioning, like she's waiting for you to push her in front of the cars that are whirling by. At that moment, all you want to do is lean down and kiss her, tell her that you'd never hurt her and you'll make sure that no one ever hurts her again.

But before you can do that someone runs into the both of you. She turns to the man who just walks away and mumbles something under her breath that you don't recognize because it's Yiddish. A smile breaks out on your face because everything she does is somehow adorable to you.

You wave down a cab and she raises her eyebrows at you, impressed. You're getting good at this getting around New York thing. You open the door for her and then slide in next to her. She rattles off her address and you consult your phone for Santana's address. They're not that far apart, she informs you, but it doesn't matter. They could be in opposite directions and you would have still wanted to split a cab with her.

"Do you- do you have plans tomorrow night?" she asks. Something in her voice seems nervous and when you look at her she does look nervous.

"I was just going to watch Santana study and wait for Brittany to get back so they can have crazy loud sex and I can sit awkwardly in my room," you answer, trying to show her that there's no reason to be nervous.

"Well, I have another early show so if you wanted to…maybe we could hang out again," she explains without taking a breath.

You nod before she even finishes. "That sounds great." By the time you're done exchanging phone numbers the driver pulls to a stop in front of Santana's apartment.

You're not sure if you should hug her or kiss her cheek, as people in the movies of New York do, so you just settle for an awkward half-wave and get out of the cab. You count exactly ten steps before you pause with one foot on the stairs up to the front door of Santana's building. You can see the taillights of the cab as it pulls away. You can't see through the back window, but you almost fool yourself into thinking that she's looking back at you.

Once inside the apartment, you pocket your key and listen to see if Brittany and Santana are still going at it. After a minute you conclude that not only are they not going at it, they're probably asleep. You go to your bedroom as quietly as possible and you're successful until you trip over Advanced Anatomy, which is open on the floor and tumble into the bed. The string of profanities that emits from your mouth, but not loud enough to wake up your housemates.

You take a minute to take stock of yourself and realize that the only thing that hurts is your toe. You reach over and turn on the lamp that is on the bedside table. The room looks like an extremely studious hurricane named Santana has been in there and you're surprised to see the very studious hurricane asleep on the floor under the window, propped up against the wall with a book in her lap.

"San," you crawl to the corner of the bed closest to her and poke her, "San, wake up."

She groans and her eyes slowly open. "Hmm?"

"What are you doing in here?" you ask gently, sitting up on the bed.

She looks around before standing up, dumping the book that was in her lap onto the floor. "We had a fight," she let out a deep sigh, "Don't worry about it. I'll be on the couch."

She starts to walk out, but you grab her hand, "A fight about what?"

"In my med school induced haze I told her that she works too much," Santana rubs her hands over her face, "She apologized and was all sweet about it and I said something stupid and she got mad and I started yelling…" she shakes her head, "It was stupid."

You gently squeeze her hand, "Tell her your sorry and go to bed. You love her San. Why would you want to be away from her?"

Her eyes lock with yours and you can see her swallow. After a moment she lets out a nod, "You're right."

"Of course I am," you add because you can't do serious for too long. Especially emotion seriousness. You let go of her hand and stand up next to her.

"How was the play?"

"It was amazing," you answer and try to keep the wonder out of your voice, "I ran into Rachel afterwards and we went out for drinks."

"Oh yeah?" she asks as you both make your way to the door of the bedroom. "How was that?"

You shrug like it was nothing although inside you're jumping up and down, "It's was alright. We're going out again tomorrow night. You guys are more than welcome to come with."

She glances down the hallway like Brittany's standing there to tell her if she wants to. Her eyes make their way back to you, "I'm down. We'll have to ask B if she's going to be working or not." The bitterness in her voice is not lost on you, but you chose to ignore it now because you know it'll come up later. "What time is your conference thingy tomorrow?"

"First seminar is at nine," you reply with a fake gag, "Remodel: Bathroom vs. Kitchen."

"Oh damn, I wish I didn't have class," Santana smirks, "I'd so be there."

You gently push her toward her room and out of your room, "Don't be jealous that I get to stare at toilets for two hours."

"Only if you're not jealous that I get to stare at bedpans," she calls over her shoulder and puts her hand on the knob of hers and Brittany's room.

"Goodnight," you smirk.

She quirks an eyebrow and mirrors your smirk, "Goodnight." She disappears into the dark of her room and you can already hear them talking.

You smile because you know that Brittany wasn't asleep and probably couldn't sleep because Santana was gone. As you close the door to your room, you figure it must be nice. You quickly change and fall back into bed. After you turn the light off you check your phone. No missed calls from Finn or anyone. You can't help, but feel a little depressed that no one really cares enough to make sure you made it to New York okay.

So you do what comes naturally. Push the emotion down and pull the covers up to your chin. If they don't care, you don't either. At least in theory.


	3. Chapter 3

When you wake up and trudge to the kitchen for your morning coffee, Brittany and Santana are already awake. Brittany is sitting in Santana's lap on the couch, both watching the morning news.

You can't help, but tease them, "Look at you two all grown up drinking coffee and watching the news."

Brittany giggles. After a quick glance in Santana's cup, she stands up, taking the cup with her and follows you to the kitchen.

"That play must have gone on really late," she casually mentions as she waits for you to finish pouring your coffee.

"I went and had a drink with Rachel afterwards," you grin and hope that you don't look too excited.

She beams, "That's awesome." You move out of the way so that she can get to the coffee.

You nod, "We're going out again tonight. You guys can come if you want." You grab the sugar and pour a healthy amount into your coffee before stirring, "It'll be fun."

Brittany gaze drops and she let's out a sigh, "I'll try

You reach out and rub her arm, "I'm sure it'll get better."

She silently nods, her head bowed and exits the kitchen.

You wish there was a way to help them, but you can't even think of a way to help yourself. You look down at the coffee in your cup and shake your head at yourself because you caught yourself thinking it remind you of her eyes. You keep hearing that New York makes people hard, but it's pretty much turned you into a mush ball.

You still can't quite believe your luck last night. It went well despite the awkward moments and she wants to see you again. If you weren't so tired you'd have sworn you were dreaming.

"Quinn! Your phone is ringing!" Santana's voice interrupts your replay of drinks the night before.

You set your coffee down and trot her your room. The number isn't one you recognize, but you answer anyway, "Hello?"

"Quinn?" a timid, yet familiar voice asks.

"Hey Rachel," you can't stop a grin, "What's up?"

"I was just going over my schedule this morning and wanted to make sure you still wanted to go out tonight?" it comes out as more of a question and you can tell she's trying really hard not to be nervous.

"Of course. The last seminar of the day is over at five, but I don't know if I can take eight straight hours," you try to ease her tension and hear her chuckle, "Just call me when you're ready."

"The show should be over at the same time it was last night so maybe eightish?" she asked, "But I'm afraid that for a crazy night out you should go with Santana and Brittany. The craziest I get is karaoke night at a club uptown."

You smile and walk out of the bedroom. Brittany has disappeared and Santana is shoving books into a bag next to the couch. You pull the phone away from your mouth to ask her, "Are you still coming out tonight?"

"Yes," she nods definitely, "I need a drink…or ten." She shouldered the bag and made her way to the door, "I'm off to class. I'll be back at three."

You nod and wave to her. After she leaves your attention is back to Rachel, "Santana is going to come out with us. She just wants to get shitfaced to avoid her feelings."

"Classic Santana," Rachel answers, "Anyway, I have to go. I have to go get some coffee before I fall on my face." You can practically hear her smile, "I'll call you when the show is over and we'll figure out what to do. When are you going back?"

"The day after tomorrow," you answer with a heavy sigh. You really don't want to go back. Going back means divorce, dead-end job, and the mundane day to day that has become your life.

You hear her whine, "Aww…I have to go apartment hunting tomorrow. Although I'm sure you want to spend some more time with Santana and Brittany. I was hoping that you'd be here a couple more days. You know, so I could show you the New York that I know."

"I'll try to come back soon," you lean on the back of the couch and try to figure out when you'll be able to get back. You contemplate asking her if she wanted to meet for coffee, but if you get back to Lima and your boss asks you how the conference was, you want to at least be able to tell him how one seminar was.

"Alright well," she seems reluctant to get off the phone. She takes a deep breath, "I guess I'll let you go."

"Feel free to text," you add because you don't really want to get off the phone either, but you really need to get going, "I'll be bored out of my mind."

"Okay," she let's out a small giggle. "Have fun. I'll see you later."

"Bye Rach," you exhale and wait for her to hang up.

After a moment you hear her ask, "Quinn?"

You can't stop a laugh because you knew you were both waiting for the other to hang up, "Yeah, I'm still here."

"Well you have to hang up," she jokes.

You smile, "Okay. I'll count to three and we'll both hang up."

"Okay."

"One, two, three," you pause and listen. When you look at your phone you see that she hasn't hung up yet, "Rachel! You were supposed to hang up!"

"You were too!" she calls back, laughing heartily.

You take a deep breath to stop laughing so hard you can't breathe. "Okay, Rach. I really have to go."

"Me too," she adds softly, "I'll see you later. Have fun."

"You too," you add, "Bye Rach." You realize that you've been saying her name a lot, but you've been avoiding saying it since the last time you saw her at graduation.

"Bye Quinn," she says and you finally hang up. You like that the last thing you heard her say is your name. Finally you get motivated to get moving. If you're not at the Regional Real Estate Convention to yawn in the back row who will be?

And yawning is exactly what you're doing in the back row. The man on stage is talking about projections and seller's markets and interest on first time loans. You don't care. These are all things you already know. You read articles and stay on top of the changes in the markets. It's not a lot of work and most of the time you wonder why people in your office don't make the effort.

Your phone dings in your purse and you calmly get it out. You're usually so good at turning it on silent during things like this. When you take it out you turn the sound off before opening the text.

_Hey Quinn. I looked up where your conference is and thought I'd recommend somewhere for you to eat lunch at. Valentino's is a block away. They have great sandwiches and pizzas._

You smile at her thoughtfulness. She's been really nice to you since you got here. There has to be a way you could pay her back. Lucky for you, you have four more hours of this torture to not pay attention and figure something out. You text back:

_I'll remember that. Is there any chance I could get a super awesome Broadway star to come have lunch with me?_

You know she's probably busy, but it's worth a shot. Her text back is almost immediate.

_I know a few that would probably love to have lunch with you, but I, unfortunately, am already in the hair and make up chair._

You knew it was a long shot before you asked. You text back that it's okay and that you wish you had a hair and makeup person for every day of the week.

You text back and forth, a little meaningless conversation before she tells you that she had to go, but she'll call you later.

Now that you're left alone with your thoughts and a slide show on the importance of getting a house inspected, you're bored again.

You go to the restaurant that Rachel suggested and she of course was right. It is the best pizza you'd ever had. You even eat the vegan pizza in her honor and love every bite.

You don't mingle much at the conference. Everyone who is milling around looks like they're posing for the photograph that they want on a bus bench and they're all discussing what else but real estate. You don't really care. Lima is a tiny market and you know it backwards and forwards. As far as you know you're the only representative that any Lima firm sent.

You meet a few agents from New York who engage you in small talk and ask about your numbers. You politely exchange business cards like you actually plan on calling them. You don't and you know they don't either.

Finally at three fifteen you really can't stand to be there anymore with the fake smiles and the navy blue power suits. So you walk the five or seven blocks back to Santana's apartment. When you use your key to open the door, you find her sitting on the couch, her face buried in a book. Her excited eyes shoot to you, but when she sees you the excitement fades, "Hey Q."

You feel bad that you're not actually Brittany when she looks back at the book. You also wish that someone would be excited to see you when you got home. Finn barely acknowledges you from the couch when you get home anymore.

You set your purse on the end table by the couch and sink down next to her, "How was class?"

"Same ole same ole," she drones, pulling her knees to her chest. "Oh look a blood clot, class what do we do? Wrong, here's what you do." She closed her book and set it on the table, "I should have gone to real estate school."

"I should have gone to med school," you chuckle.

She gestures to the books on the coffee table, "By all means. My schedule is my phone. I just wanna sleep."

"Take a nap," you tell her and rub her shin affectionately.

She shakes her head, "I need to study if we're going out."

You nod, "Rachel said she wants to go to a karaoke night Uptown."

"I'm not surprised," Santana rested her head on the back of the couch, "It's cool though. I probably need to let loose."

"I agree."

After about a couple hours to watching TV while Santana stared at her books, you decided to go for a walk. Santana tells you to call if you need anything and keep your phone close. You assure her that you'll be fine, but you'll call if you need her.

Once outside, the feel of the city invades your senses. There are people walking around oblivious to everything they could be experiencing with the city. You guess people who live here are used to it and don't feel the same surge you do when you step onto the sidewalk and you decide it's their loss.

The people you see as you walk as unlike anyone in Lima. Everyone in Lima has pretty much the same fashion sense they did when they were in high school so nothing has changed. Here you see the highest of highs and the lowest of lows on the fashion scale. You see every ethnicity you can think of and some you didn't know existed. The air floating around added an electricity to the scene. You love the smells, good and bad, and the noises, loud and soft.

It doesn't surprise you that after an hour of walking you end up on Broadway, standing across the street from where she is dazzling another audience. You take a long, deep breath and force yourself to walk away. It's better if you start this process now. You're leaving the day after tomorrow and you know that's going to be hard enough.

Your phone rings and you see a New York number you don't recognize. "Hello?"

"Quinn Fabray?" a strong male voice asks.

"Yes," you quirk an eyebrow with expectation even though the man can't see you.

"This is David Corbett with Upper Manhattan Real Estate Associates," he says smoothly, "We talked earlier this afternoon."

You don't remember him, but go ahead and blow smoke, "Oh David, how are you?"

"I'm doing well," he tells you, "I was just calling to inform you that, we are looking for a few new agents and after talking to you, I'd like to personally extend an invitation for an interview in front of our senior partners in the upcoming weeks. You did express interest and moving from your current location and there's no better place than New York."

You're momentarily stunned into speechlessness. Working here would mean living here and living hear would mean that Rachel is close. But then reality hits you. You have no experience in New York or anywhere outside of Lima. Your mom is still in Lima. Your sister is still in Lima. Your soon to be ex-husband is still in Lima. Your whole damn life is still in Lima. Moving here has always been your pipe dream and you know it'll most likely stay a pipe dream. Besides it's just an interview. It doesn't mean a job. There's bound to be some trust-fund baby in an Armani suit that has grown up here and know the whole island like you know Lima.

Before you can answer you hear him chuckle, "Think about it and let me know by the end of the week. It was good to talk to you again."

"Thank you. Um…You too," you mumble before you hang up your phone. You suppose strange things happen in New York everyday. This has got to be one of the strangest.

Around seven forty-five, you're back at Santana's apartment, getting ready. You've already eaten Thai food from a place down the street that you picked up on the way back and now you're deciding what to wear. Knowing that you were going to stay with your best friends, you brought going out clothes. A little black skirt accentuated with a light blue top with a deep dip in the back.

"I'm impressed," Santana looks you over as she slides on her heels. "Where are we meeting her highness?"

"We're going to meet her at the club," you answer, "Her assistant called me an hour ago."

"For real?" Santana stands up straight and smoothes out her wine red dress, "That's so weird. I can't help, but picturing her in animal sweaters and argyle skirts."

You chuckle. It's true. You're so used to thinking about her as Rachel from high school when most other people know her as Rachel Berry, Broadway stunner. It makes sense for her to have an assistant. You're sure she has a lot to do, but it's just foreign to you that people have personal assistants. You can't think of a reason anyone in Lima would ever need one.

You watch Santana pick up her phone and glance at the screen before lightly sighing. She slips the phone into her purse and turns to you. When she sees you looking, she forces a smile, "Ready?"

You nod and follow her to the door. You wish Brittany was coming, but you don't say it out loud because you know she does too.

You both arrive a little late because the cab driver got lost. Santana yelled at him for the better part of the trip and she throws the money at him as she gets out at the club. You offer him an apologetic smile as you slide out. He does look like he just got his driver's license and you're sure after that ride he's ready to give it back.

Once inside you find that the karaoke is in a back room that is smaller with a smaller bar, but you like it better than the swelling mass of people vibrating in the main room. You look around the room that is still crowded with people, but you don't see her.

"Hey Q," Santana calls over the really bad, drunken rendition of Heart's "Crazy on You." You look at her and see that she's pointing to an alcove type area where couches and chairs are abundant. There are two very large men in all black guarding the stairs leading to area. On one of the larger couches in between two less threatening looking men is Rachel.

Santana leads the way over to the guards but before they can get there, Rachel comes gracefully down the stairs. "You made it!"

She wraps her arms around your waist; her hands hitting the skin on the small of your back make you softly gasp. You slide her arms around her shoulders and she gives you a tight squeeze. When she leaves your embrace to awkwardly hug Santana, you're disappointed at the loss of contact.

The disappointment doesn't last long because Rachel takes your hand to guide both of you up the stairs and to the couches. "These are some of my cast mates," she introduces you to the two men she was with earlier. They're both handsome and you've seen tabloid pictures him on a 'date' with Rachel. You immediately hate him.

He stands and offers his hand to you, "I'm David."

You shake it and tell him your name. Then you glance at Santana who is already laughing with the other guy.

After introductions, Santana and her new friend Andrew, order shots for all five of you. The VIP waitress is attentive and quick with your order. You're seated on the large puffy couch next to Rachel who is in between you and David.

"When are you going to sing?" she leans forward, asking David.

He shrugs, "Now I guess." With a quick smile he stands up and makes his way to the now empty microphone.

Rachel leans back into you and you've had just enough to drink to be comfortable wrapping your arms around her. She tilts her head up and grins at you. You feel the muscles in your hands tremble because your faces are so close together and you really, really, really…really want to kiss her.

Before you can engage in the stupid action, she looks to David who takes his place behind the microphone. She stands up, out of your arms and cheers for him. When she sits back down, slightly tipsy, she accidentally sits in your lap. You feel like your throat is closing up at the close space, but you put your arms around her again.

You both watch David sing. You begrudgingly admit that he is a good singer. Rachel takes a few sips of her drink as his song goes on. She leans back into you and you wonder if she'd be doing that if she knew what you want to do to her at that moment.

As the song winds down and David bows to the crowd she turns her head to the side to talk to you. "Quinn I will pay for you to come back up here anytime you want if you go up there and sing 'It's a Man's, Man's, Man's World'," She laughs into the darkened VIP section of the bar you're in. "Plus two hundred dollars and I'll cook breakfast for you tomorrow."

"I can't," you shake your head. That was years ago. You haven't sung like that since before you got married.

"Please?" she pleads, "That was my favorite song you've ever sung. It was so…charged." She turns in your lap and clings to your waist. She places her head on your shoulder, "Except for the pregnant girls dancing in the background. Forgive me but that was a little creepy."

You can't help, but laugh. Having background dancers wasn't really your idea, but it was nice having someone up there that understood what you were going through. In hindsight you can understand how it could have been creepy.

You notice that in her drunken state Rachel keeps chanting, "Please, please, please…" into your neck and you shiver because you've only fantasized about having her this close before now. She's in your lap, arms locked around you, and her face is in your neck. There's nothing about this moment that doesn't turn you on, but you know she's drunk and has no idea about your feelings for her. You're starting to see that that's unfair to her, but you're enjoying this moment until it's over.

Finally you sigh like you weren't going to do it, but somehow she talked you into it. You knew you were going to do it the second she asked. "Fine, but you know that I'm definitely not who you're used to hearing and your memory has probably made me sound a hundred times better."

"Yay!" she claps and bounces off of your lap. Before you know it you're being drug to the stage before she shoves a microphone into your hand and tells the DJ what you're going to sing.

The DJ looks at you like you're a drunken sorority girl who is in way over her head with a song. That pisses you off. Who is he to know what you can and can't sing? Who says a white girl from Lima, Ohio can't get down with James Brown? Who says you can't be a month from twenty-three and getting a divorce? Who says you can't start over? Who says you can't recuperate from a life that has pushed you down and kept you in something you decide is a less sexy version of Wisteria Lane where no one ever gets out without dying?

Your thoughts morph from the DJ's expectations of you to the world's expectations. You don't know how it made the jump, but with all the riots and mosh pits going on up there, it's hard just to tell what you think sometimes. The alcohol isn't helping. Besides this song needs anger and soul and fiery passion. You've got them all in spades.

The music starts and you put the microphone to your lips. You deeply inhale letting the air reach deep inside you and pull that emotion to the surface.

_This is a man's world_

The room goes silent and you smirk. Got 'em.

_This is a man's world_

_But it wouldn't mean nothing_

_Nothing without a woman or a girl_

You can feel all the eyes on you. You feel them probing your soul through the song. And you let them because you're angry. You're disappointed. You're emotional and you're letting it go. You rip from verse to bridge to chorus in a fury of fiery emotions.

_He's lost in the wilderness_

_He's lost in bitterness_

_He's lost, lost somewhere in this_

_In loneliness_

When the music comes to a close, you finally realize that there are tears running down your face. You replace the microphone and scurry off the stage. You pass the VIP area and duck into the bathroom. You knew you were a mess, but crying during karaoke night is a new low.

You try to erase the effects of the tears as you look at yourself over the sink. The door opens and you dry your face. Santana steps in, looking you over.

"What's up Q?" she asks quietly, leaning on the counter next to you. She's playing with her nails as she looks at you.

You shake your head, "Just…everything. Singing that song always make me emotional. I shouldn't have done it when we're all here having a good time."

"It's cool," Santana steps up to you and envelopes you in a hug. "Rachel and I know you're going through some hard stuff. She's probably on her way in here right now because she started bawling before you did."

"Really?" you ask and pull away.

She nods and carefully wipes away a stray tear. "If you tell anyone I'll deny it but I got a little misty too."

You smile and pull her into another hug as the bathroom door opens again. This time Rachel walks in and waits for you embrace to end before stepping up to you two. Her head is slightly bowed and she's slowly twirling a bracelet across her wrist. You know she's been crying because you've seen it enough times to know. She quietly murmurs, "That was beautiful Quinn."

"I really didn't mean to make you guys cry," you tell them and pull Rachel to you. Her arms encircle your waist as she leans into you.

"I didn't cry," Santana states and looks to herself in the mirror.

You let out a knowing smirk and give Rachel a gentle squeeze. "C'mon let's go have fun. I'm only here for another day and I want a night to remember."

"That is my girl," Santana grins. She grabs your hand and pulls you, and by proxy, Rachel out the door.

There's another round of shots on your table when you get back so David and Andrew join you in a toast. "To James Brown," Santana offers.

"To New York City," you add.

"To friends," Rachel smiles at you. You smile back. You don't really hear Andrew and David's toasts because your eyes are locked with hers.

Finally Santana hitting her shot glass against yours jerks you out of her trance and you down the liquid fire along with everyone else.

Someone picks up the microphone and a woman starts singing a very good cover of "Born This Way". Large groups of people start dancing around the floor next to the stage.

"This is my jam!" Santana calls and grabs your hand, pulling you down the VIP stairs to the dance floor. You manage to grab Rachel's hand and drag her with you.

In the mess of gyrating bodies, you feel a radiant heat coming off of Rachel because she's so close to you. You feel your knees start to tremble so you quickly look away. Santana and Andrew dancing behind her catch your eyes. He's pressed to her back and she's swaying to the music, her eyes closed. Your stomach clenches because you wish she wouldn't dance with other guys, but you feel for her. You've been in New York for almost two days and you've only seen Brittany probably a grand total of an hour and you're staying with her. You're sure that Santana is pretending that Andrew is Brittany. You just want to make sure she doesn't pretend too far.

When you turn back to Rachel, you see that she's dancing with David. He has her hips under his hands and he's wearing a cocky smirk. She's looking up at him with a sweet, almost seductive smile and you want to vomit.

Your escape from the sights propels you all the way back to the VIP section where another round of shots are sitting. You don't know who keeps sending them, but you order a vodka and RedBull before taking three of the shots in front of you. You internally berate yourself for allowing yourself to feel. To be close to her and to pretend that maybe you could be more. For wanting desperately to move to New York to be near her because someday she may fall in love with you. For almost talking yourself into moving here. You feel like an idiot. A huge oblivious idiot.

You grit your teeth as your eyes seek them out from your perch above the dancing mass. You finish off the rest of the shots when you see her kissing him.


	4. Chapter 4

You're head is throbbing. You figure that's probably what woke you up. If only you could open your eyes. You decide to take a mental inventory. You feel all of your limbs resting uselessly around you. You can tell that you're fully clothed as well as some extra weight on top of you. You seem to be laying on your stomach on a very soft bed. There's a pillow under your head and the extra weight on you must be blankets.

You then realize what happened last night. Well most of what happened last night. When you wigged out because Rachel and David were kissing you started drinking hard. Then Santana found you and joined you, keeping up with you, but trying to decrease your intake at the same time.

Your stomach sinks when you realize what else went down last night. When Rachel hugged you from behind at the bar you brushed her off. You can still see the hurt look on her face. Then when David tried to help you out to the cab, you stuck your foot in front of him making him stumble into a very burly guy who apparently didn't know who David was because a fight ensued. The make up department is going to have a hell of a time covering up the shiner he now donned. And you can't stop a smile because as nice as he was to you last night, you wish you had done it to him.

A shrill ring fills the room and you groan wishing someone would turn it off. After a few seconds it abruptly stops and you hear someone moan in an answer. You really wish you could open your eyes, but there is light everywhere. You feel like you're on an operating table it's so bright.

"Hey baby," your best friend's voice mumbles somewhere close to you. You can't pinpoint direction because your head hurts too badly. "I'm fine. I'm sorry. We were just out really late last night and…" she pauses, "Yeah Q's here. She looks fine too." There's another pause, "I'm sorry. I love you too. See you later."

"Where are we?" you mumble against your pillow and feel her lay back down next to you.

"Casa de Berry I suppose," she sighs. You can tell that she's on the bed as well because there's a slight shift, "It's way too damn bright in here."

You finally manage to fight the light long enough to get your eyes open. They're squinted, but through them you see the fuzzy outline of mussed up brown hair. You smirk to yourself. Santana must have some serious bed head.

But when you brush the wild hair back, you see long eyelashes flutter open and hazy brown eyes attempting to focus on you. The hue of the skin around them and the shade of brown told you that those eyes certainly did not belong to Santana.

Your body isn't responding to any of your commands to get up and run away. You're stuck on the bed just looking at her. A smile slowly spreads across her face and she runs a hand through her wavy hair. "Good morning."

You mumble something that may or may not sound like good morning, but it makes her smile wider.

"How do you feel?" she rubs your back through the blanket.

Finally you regain some movement but it's only your neck as it turns your head to bury your face in the pillow. You groan in a reply.

At this, she full on laughs. You feel her slide out of the bed, but don't chance looking up. It's still too dangerous. Her voice is farther away when she adds, "I'll go get some coffee and breakfast. You two make yourselves comfortable."

"Thanks," Santana moans for the both of you.

Once you're sure she's gone, you have to ask, "Did I do anything stupid?"

"Nah," she answers. You feel her moving on the bed so you turn your head towards her, "Although you were a big baby when I tried to get you to change clothes. You fell on the bed twice because you thought you could do it yourself." Santana doesn't look like the disheveled mess that you feel. She looks pretty normal for her because she's always tired. Her hair is up and she's tucked under the blankets still trying to block out the sun.

"Did you have fun?" you ask. You're indirectly asking how it ended up with Andrew because last you remember Santana and Andrew were hanging all over each other.

She nods against the pillows. "Andrew asked me out again though."

"What'd you tell him?" you study her because Santana is or used to be a very impulsive person and you're not actually sure what she'd say.

Her eyes narrow at you, "What the fuck do you think I said?"

You know she's mad at you for thinking that she may have taken him up on his offer. You fumble with the words that reassure her that you were only curious, but before you can get them out she adds, "Me and Brit may be having some issues, but I will never hurt her like that."

"I know S," you sigh, "I just wanted to know if you let him down easy or you were a bitch about it." That's a lie, but it's better than admitting that you were thinking that your best friend would cheat on her girlfriend. Her emotional outburst means that she's not telling you the whole story, but if she didn't actually cheat then that's good enough for you.

"Oh," she calms down. "I told him that I'm with someone else. He asked if it was anyone as famous as him." Her eyes roll and a smirk plays on her lips, "I almost hit him, but I didn't."

"I'm so proud," you chuckle and prop her head up with your elbow to see her better.

"I told him that she was a choreographer on Broadway," she went on with a smug smile, "And she might not be as famous but she was ten times as hot." She giggled at herself and you can't help, but smile. "Anyway, it turns out that they know each other and he told me that Brittany talks about me all the time, bragging on me being a Med student and all. Then he asked me if I'd look at a rash on his back."

"You better get used to that, Dr. Lopez," you roll onto her back, "Or Dr. Lopez-Pierce or-"

"Okay you're starting to sound like my mom," she sits up, "And I'll tell you what I tell her, I'll do what I want to do when I want to do it."

"Or more accurately," you smile up at her, "You'll do what Brittany wants you to do when she wants you to do it."

She picks up a free pillow and hits you in the face with it. "I hate you."

You don't reply because you're stunned by the pillow. Not by the hit, but by the scent. It smells just like Rachel and you're once again lost in the euphoric haze. It dawns on you that you're laying in her bed, staring at her ceiling, covered with her blankets.

It's all too much for you and your system immediately overloads. You quickly get out of the bed against all the screaming protest from your muscles and brain. You glance at Santana who is carefully watching you, "Do you have a puke again?"

"Again?" you ask, shoulders slumping. You can't believe you really drank that much.

She nods, "I didn't actually know it happened until you and Berry got back to bed at like four." She slides out of bed and looks around, "This is not really what I expected."

You look around too and take in the bedroom, "What did you expect?"

"A gold star shaped bed and a wall of mirrors so she could look at herself all the time," Santana mentions in true snarky Santana style.

You see that the light colored curtains and bed linens contrast beautifully with the dark woods of the furniture. There is something so Rachel about it. Of course there are old Broadway posters on the walls and pictures scattered about.

"Check it out Q," Santana motions you over a grouping of pictures on the wall. You walk over to her and smile when you see the picture of your first National Show Choir win. One of your arms is looped around Rachel. Her eyes are closed because she's laughing and crying all at once. Brittany and Santana are in a mid-air hug off to the side. Puck and Finn are trying to act cool, but they can't contain their elated smiles. Everyone else is in various stages of celebration.

"Brittany has that picture somewhere too," Santana adds as she moves on to the other pictures.

You don't tell her that you have it framed and hanging on your living room wall next to your senior prom king and queen picture because you don't feel you've done anything since that garners a place on the wall.

"Breakfast!" you both hear Rachel sing from outside the bedroom door.

Santana is the first to walk out. She pauses as soon as she steps out and you look over her shoulder wondering what's up. "Wow," Santana lets out and continues walking. There's a sunken living room to your right and a dining room alcove to the left. Past the dining room is an open kitchen with a small table for four a few feet from the island in the kitchen.

"This is really nice," you comment as you both meet Rachel who is at the kitchen table.

"Thanks," she smiles sweetly at you and offers you a cup of coffee. You take it when a grateful smile. She hands Santana one and you all have a seat at the table. Muffins and fruit is passed around. You're not sure your stomach can take an orange yet so you stick with nibbling on a muffin.

Santana eyes Rachel who is visibly uncomfortable under the scrutiny. You're quick to divert Santana's attention, "What was that place called that we went to last night?"

"Rain," Rachel answers, "I guess the back room is actually a bar in and of itself." She shrugs and sips her coffee.

After a moment of silence, Santana asks you, innocently enough, "What made you lose it last night?"

It takes you a second but you come up with a valid excuse, "The song. It got to me."

"Born This Way or Man's World?" She asks.

"Both I guess," you nod, "I mean they brought back all the memories of high school and stuff where we all had...dreams and we all knew what we were going to do. You two are living your dreams. I never... My dream was prom queen. I got that two years in a row and I never thought past that." It sounds pitiful and you don't want to talk about it so you place a 'shut up' look in Santana's direction.

Unfortunately Rachel picks up where Santana left off. "You said you were going to be a real estate agent and you were going to marry Finn and be stuck in Lima," Rachel narrows her eyes thoughtfully at you.

"That's not a dream," Santana shook her head moving her eyes to Rachel, "that's..."

"Realistically predicting the future?" You chance. That's pretty much what it was.

"Maybe it was self fulfilling prophecy," Rachel adds quietly as if saying it softly would have less of a chance of offending you.

Initially it does offend you. Like you keep yourself in Lima on purpose. You feel Santana tense because she knows you're upset. But after a moment you know she's right. You do keep yourself there but you have good reasons. You nod to assure yourself that they are good reasons.

Before you can form a mental list Rachel speaks up again, "What's your dream Quinn?"

 _You are_ is your immediate thought. She's your dream both literally and figuratively. When you see them both looking expectantly at you, you sigh, "I don't know. I'm just so... Fucked."

"No you're not," Rachel chides you. She leans forward, a determinate in her eyes that sends chills through your body, "You just have to figure out what you want and make it happen."

"It's not that easy," you sigh, sinking back into your chair.

"Is that anyway for Little Miss Lima 1995 to talk?" Santana quirks an eyebrow. You shoot her a small smile. She mirrors it and adds, "Q, you can do anything."

There used to be a time when you thought that was true. Now you're cynical. The hell that is Lima has jaded you. You sigh heavily in response.

Rachel reaches across the table and places her hand on top of yours, "I believe I can speak for Santana as well when I say we will definitely help you with any dream you have in any capacity we can."

Your arm twitches trying to get away from her touch but you tense your muscles making yourself stay. You can't stand being the cause of the hurt look on her face again.

"I'm with Berry on this," Santana confirms her commitment, "You're fuckin' miserable Q." There's something you know she's not saying and it makes you uncomfortable. You readjust in your chair and lick your lips suddenly parched.

"I don't believe I would have worded it like that but last night has led me to believe that you're not happy and you haven't been in a while. It breaks my heart to see you in pain Quinn. It always has." You turn to her look deeply into her eyes. You see that it's true and in her eyes she does look heartbroken.  
You hate that you're the cause of it and you hate that making yourself happy in an attempt to make her happy would most definitely end badly, probably in your exile back to Lima with your tail between your legs.

So you force a convincing smile, "Thanks guys. I'll let you know when I figure it out."

She leans back in her chair, her hand slipping off of yours. She's looking at you with the studious eyes of someone searching for something. Whatever it is, you don't want her to find it so you turn to Santana only to find the same gaze.

"Please stop looking at me," you shoot out of your chair barely catching it before it tumbles to the ground. You start a retreat only to remember that this isn't your apartment and you're not at Santana's apartment where you have your own room. So you rush to the bathroom and shut the door.

That may have been your most cowardly run yet but between the two of them, they might figure out what's really wrong and you can't risk that. You're just grateful that Brittany isn't there because if she were you wouldn't have made it this far without her knowing.

The soft knock on the door doesn't surprise you. You know neither one will leave it alone until they're sure you're okay, or at least emotionally stable.

"Q?" Santana is on the other side of the door. "I'm sorry. Please come out. I gotta get to class but I'm not leaving until I know you're okay." She pauses, "if there's something important at the beginning of my class and I miss it and kill someone on the operating table it'll be on you."

Her threat is laced with a strange kind of teasing unique to Santana. You can't help but smile. You open the door that you never actually locked and Santana immediately hugs you.

"I'm sorry. I guess I really am fucked up." You sigh into her shoulder.

Her shoulders bounce with a laugh, "You're a little fucked up, but nothing that can't be fixed." She pulls away and looks you over, "Can I leave now? You're not going to try to drown yourself in the toilet or anything?"

You can't help, but smile. She's your best friend and she knows what'll make you laugh, "No. No toilet suicide."

She gives you another hug; "I gotta get going so I'm going to leave you in the care of the superstar. If you need anything call me and for the love of god don't go to that stupid conference. If you do you probably will kill yourself."

"But I-" you start as she pulls away, but she cuts you off.

"Are you really learning anything?" she asks and leads you out of the bathroom.

"Well no, but-"

Again she cuts you off, "Then you need to enjoy the city while you're still here." When you both enter the living room, you see Rachel still sitting in at the table in the same place you left her, thoughtfully watching you. When she sees you looking, she averts her eyes.

You let out a sigh, "You're right. Brit's working today?" You know the question may upset Santana, but if she's not working you'd really like to see her.

"When is she not?" Santana rolls her eyes and her shoulders fall.

You usher her to the door and give her another hug, "Someday you'll be a surgeon and she'll practically own Broadway," you throw a sideways glance back at Rachel, "along with our resident actress and you'll have all the time in the world together to be grotesquely affectionate and annoyingly adorable together. Just give it time."

"But I want her now," Santana stomps and pouts as she makes her way out the door. She throws over her shoulder, "Thanks for breakfast Berry."

You smile at the back of her advancing form before you close the door. When you turn around you find Rachel staring hard at the table, drawing nonsensical figures with her fingers.

You lean back on the door and stare at the floor for a few seconds trying to gather the courage to mumble the two hardest words you've ever had to string together. Finally you get it out, "I'm sorry." You immediately feel her eyes on you and you reluctantly meet them.

"No," she quietly adds, "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have pressured you. I just really want to see you happy." She stands up and moves toward you.

With your back against the door you have no escape. So you stand there and wait for her to get to you, hearing her slow, deliberate footsteps echoing through the otherwise empty apartment. She stops right in front of you, insecurity written all over her face. She holds your eyes through the veil of her eyelashes before softly asking, "Can I give you a hug?"

You don't realize you nod until she latches to your waist, her head on your shoulder, whispering, "Can I tell you a secret Quinn?"

You're not sure if your fragile emotions can handle getting any closer to her, but you decide to risk it because she seems to be vulnerable right now and more than willing to share that with you. "Yes."

Your fingers of one hand play in her hair as the other hand holds her close. She takes a deep breath and says, "I think…." She trails off and pauses again. Then she starts again, "It feels like this is a dream."

When she doesn't continue, you have to ask, "Why is that?"

"Because," she pulls away to look you in the face. Her eyes holding yours in a virtual vice grip, "In high school, I always…felt for you. I always wanted to see you happy and never wanted you to be sad. We did have our differences, I know, but…I always feel like you saved me."

You're immediately confused. You treated her like shit up until senior year and even then you weren't the closest of friends. Of course, sometimes when you were both at a party and you were drunk you got a little over affectionate, but Rachel went with it.

She takes your hand and guides you into the living room. When she sits on the couch, you do the same and turn towards her. She licks her lips before she continues, "Remember what you told me a few weeks before graduation?"

You shake your head, but you know exactly what you said. You just want to know how much she remembers of your emotional outburst. You knew you were about to lose her, probably forever and you decided that the best way to deal with it was to push her out the door so you could pretend to have some control over it.

"Well," she lets out a wistful smile, "You told me that I didn't belong with you or Finn or Noah. And I didn't realize it at the time, but you were right. I'm a very organized person, but when I'm dating someone or best friends with someone a large portion of my attention is devoted to them and not what I need to be doing." She let's out a wider smile, showing her perfect teeth. "I always wondered why you kept me at arms length after we'd settled all of our differences. Then I figured it out." You feel your heart hammer and you hands start to shake. There's no way she knows. She can't know. Unless you said something last night….you start to really panic.

She rests a hand on your knee and you follow her delicate fingers up to her small wrist to her slender arms, past the curve of her neck and to her face where she's still smiling. Finally she speaks again, "You didn't want me to get attached to you. We could have very easily been best friends. But if we were, I'd become attached to you and there's no telling what I would have done."

You feel your whole body deflate. It's a relief and a disappointment. If she knew, you wouldn't have to hide it and although she doesn't feel the same way, you'd know she knew and you wouldn't feel so damn guilty every time she touched you. However if she knew the touches may stop. Things could get awkward and you may lose her for the short time you're still here.

You let out a convincing, although fake smile and nod, "You got me."

She leans forward and hugs you, "Well now we can be friends right? I've made it already so there's no reason for us not to?"

"Right," you nod, awkwardly patting her back. What's the harm in being besties? You're leaving tomorrow and god knows if you'll ever actually make it back.

When she pulls away there's a huge smile on her face, "So, I have to go apartment hunting today because it's one of my rare days off, but we can totally do something fun afterwards. I've already narrowed down the apartments I'm looking at so it shouldn't take more than a few hours. I'd really like for you to come and give me your honest input then we'll do something completely fabulous. Does that sound okay?"

You nod, "Sure. Although my expertise isn't-"

She holds up her hand, "Quinn I've done some research and have learned that you are the best real estate agent in Lima. Your expertise is just icing on the cake because I highly value the opinion of my friend, even if you weren't in your current profession."

You melt at her words. You know that you can't not go with her now. Not that you didn't want to go in the first place.

She stands up, "Although you're expertise is still valuable and I'll pay you."

The idea is slightly offensive. You don't take money from friends, "You're not paying me."

"I owe you two hundred dollars for singing anyway." She adds, making her way to the table.

You stay seated, watching her start to clean up the breakfast mess. You can't let her do that alone so you walk over and start picking up the trash, "I can't take that. Besides I have no idea who paid for the drinks last night. Put the money toward that because I'm sure I drank more than that."

"David paid for everyone's drinks last night," she explains nonchalantly, putting the leftovers on the island in the kitchen, "and he wouldn't take it anyway."

"What a gentleman," you state, the bitterness evident. You didn't mean for her to hear it, but she did and you watch her for a reaction.

"You don't like him do you?" Rachel tilts her head to the side with the question.

"I don't know him," you shrug hoping that she'll drop it.

Of course she doesn't, "But you don't like him. You laughed when he got punched in the face last night and you wouldn't let him touch you even to help you up the stairs."

"Look I'm sorry. I'm weird about people touching me and when I'm drunk I get mean. I didn't mean to offend you or your boyfriend." You spot the trashcan and use it as an escape from the conversation. However she's still looking at you when you're done slowly placing the trash in the bin.

You watch her teeth run over her bottom lip before she holds your eyes, "You didn't offend me. I didn't mean to accuse you of anything. I was just wondering why you don't like him."

"Why does it matter?" you sigh and move a few feet to the side, so that the kitchen island is between you. It feels safer that way.

She leans forward on the island, her hand roaming over a leftover orange. She looks at it and looks at you, "I just want my new favorite friend and my boyfriend to get along."

Her voice is soft and cautious, but her words drive into your chest like a thousand dull knives. As much as you've told yourself it will never work with her, you can't help but be crestfallen that she's dating someone else. You close your eyes because you're reeling. You feel like you may faint so you hold onto the counter to steady yourself.

After a brief battle with tears, you slowly open your eyes. She's moved so that she's right next to you. There's concern all over her face. You feel her take your hand before you see it. "Quinn, what's wrong?"

You shake your head and run a hand through your hair, "Residual alcohol. Puck tells me I'm a lightweight all the time."

"Do you need to go back to bed?" she lightly runs her fingers up and down your arm before she wraps her fingers around your bicep, slowly stroking it with her thumb.

You shake your head, trying to fight every urge you have to push her away and the other urges to pull her closer. "We should get going though right?"

Her eyes dart to the clock on the stove and she nods, "Yeah." She pulls you in for a brief hug before taking your hand and pulling you to her bedroom. Had your brain been functioning more than a zombie's you would have stopped this from happening.

Once in her bedroom, she lets go of your hand and steps into her rather large closet. "I'm sure there are things in here that fit you. After all you are wearing some of my clothes already."

You look down at yourself and finally notice that you're in a Shakespeare's Globe Theatre souvenir t-shirt and loose shorts that certainly aren't yours. You're relieved that you're still in the bra and panties you had on when you left Santana's apartment last night.

It doesn't take long for her to pick out something for you to wear. It does take you a while to actually change into it because she apparently has lost every shred of modesty she ever had and is now walking around her bedroom in her bra and pajama pants digging in drawers and moving back to her closet to pick out the perfect 'apartment shopping' outfit.

You stare hard at the bed until she has clothes on which took a long while because she keeps putting things on and taking them off. Finally you get out of the apartment and in a cab to the first place. You're met by a very friendly real estate agent on the front stoop that Rachel had called earlier.

"I'm Steven," he smiles politely to both of you. "It's an honor to finally meet you Ms. Berry."

She nods to him, "You too."

Then he turns to you. She smiles politely as well, "Quinn Fabray."

"She's a real estate agent as well," Rachel adds, "But now she's here in the capacity of friend."

He looks you over with a more scrutinizing eye because all real estate agents see each other as threats, especially when there's a sale on the line. You just quirk a non-threatened eyebrow at him, in a silent challenge. You can see the lines of his jaw tighten with a pained smile. You know you've won this silent exchange because you have the upper hand. His client is your friend and he knows that there are hundreds of other agents willing to jump on this.

"Well how about we go see the first one shall we?" he offers and leads the way into the security door. "As you can see this is a high security building. There are intercoms and buzzers linked from here to every apartment. The security door can only be opened from the buzzers or the inside. There are security cameras in the front hallway and looking right at us." He types in a code and the door pops open. "Every tenant has a unique code to get in which they set when they move in."

You look around the hallway as you walk in and study the wood paneling and the crown molding. When you look down you see that Rachel is looking expectantly at you. You shrug. You haven't seen anything out of the ordinary yet.

However a few hours and six apartments later, Rachel was looking to you again. So far you'd found termites, leaky pipes, and obnoxious neighbors in the past apartments. If you didn't find something wrong with the physical makeup of the apartment, she found something wrong with the layout or the window to wall ratio.

You were now standing in the kitchen of the second to last apartment on the list. You'd learned a lot about New York real estate in the past few hours and so far this one looks okay. Structurally this is the best one of them all. The building was built in 1922, remodeled two years ago. The kitchen appliances are brand new and the floors were recently refinished.

Rachel's happily running around from room to room while you follow her, checking the everything you can think of. For the kind of money Rachel was going to spend for it, you had to make sure it was flawless.

Finally you're both standing in the middle of the living room. She's looking to you for final approval. You cross your arms and eye the agent. He's been following you from apartment to apartment, watching you pick apart every single one. You're sure he hates you by now but you don't really care.

You turn back to Rachel so that your back is to him. You give her a playful smile and a wink before stating, "I don't know about this place Rach. The ceiling is starting to bow in the bathroom."

Her eyes betray the seriousness on her face. She quietly gasps and leans to the side so she can peer down the hallway to the guest bathroom. "Really? I really love this place. How much does that cost to fix?"

"It depends on what's causing it," you go on. You can see the other agent shift his weight. He already has his phone in his hand, texting away, "It can go from a thousand to almost ten thousand. There could be mold if it's from water and there are some molds that are just too dangerous to live with. You may have to demo the whole bathroom. That could be upwards of nineteen thousand."

Rachel's eyes dart from the other agent to you. You can tell she's trying to squash a smile. She finally puts on her serious face and walks over to Steven. "Steven," she says his name sweetly, like she's trying to let him down easy.

His phone dings and he quickly checks it, "I just spoke with the owners of this apartment and they're willing to come down ten thousand and take care of all the closing costs."

She looks back at you with a gleeful smile on her face. You nod and she turns back to him, "Deal."

After the agent tells her that he'll get the paperwork done and have it sent to her, you both take a cab to one of her favorite vegan haunts and have a late lunch.

"Is there anything you want to do on your last day here?" she asks, stirring her soup in lazy circles.

You shrug. Hanging out with her is all you can ask for because tomorrow is back to reality. You like the whimsy that New York affords you.

"There's got to be something," she prods, "We can do anything. What have you not gotten to do yet?"

You think about it for a moment. You wish you had gotten to spend more time with Brittany. You feel like you need more of her sunshine and you tell Rachel so. "That's pretty much it. I mean, I can't think of anything I really want to do. I'm happy to just chill for a while."

Her smile is wistful and her eyes flicker down to her food, "That is still so weird to me to you like hanging out with me."

"Why is it weird?" you ask. You place your elbow on the table and your chin in your hand.

"You were always so much cooler than me," her eyes shyly move from her bowl to you, "I think that in high school, more than wanting Finn to be my boyfriend, I wanted you to be my best friend."

You chuckle to yourself because right now, more than anything you want her to be your girlfriend. She doesn't know that so you just blink slowly and shake your head, "We should have been best friends."

"We can be now," she offers, a definitely nervousness in her voice.

You nod. Being best friends with her is dangerous if you're always going to be around each other, but when you're back in Lima it won't matter. She can be the best friend you tell everyone about, but no one ever meets because she lives so far away. You can talk on the phone as much as she wants and video chat when you both have the chance. She can tell you all her secrets and you can keep them safe for her. You can tell her about your day and she can pretend it doesn't bore the crap out of her. "Definitely."

Her smile is wide when she finally looks back at you. She brushes some of her bangs out of her face and adds, "Great. Now all my high school goals have been accomplished." You both laugh and you wish deep down that everyday could be like this.

"Um…" a teenaged girl appears next to your table clutching a memo pad and a pen, "Miss Berry? C-c-can I have your autograph?"

You can't help, but burst with pride. You can see that Rachel loves this. She graciously takes the pad and paper from the girl and asks what her name is. After commenting on how beautiful the girl's name is, she takes her time writing a generically personal note to the girl. When the girl asks you to take her picture with Rachel you agree.

Once the girl has told Rachel how much she admires her and Rachel thanks her profusely, you just want to grab Rachel in a bear hug and tell her how proud you are of her. Of course since that would take hours to articulate just how proud you are, you settle for a knowing smile.

"You really did it," you sigh, watching her lean on the table her bangs sweeping across her eyes.

She grins and nods back, "I did huh?"

"I'm so proud of you," you let out before you can restrain yourself. If you had waited any longer you would have just kept your mouth shut.

The smile on her face disappears and the edges of her eyes get pink as tears form, "Really?"

You're distraught by her sudden change of demeanor. She was just smiling and now she looks like she's about to cry, "Of course I am." You have no idea what else to say because a single tear trails down her face.

She smiles and wipes it away, lowering her head, "I just…no one really says that to me except my dads. It actually means a lot coming from you too."

You never knew your opinion mattered that much to you so you reach across the table and take her hand, gently stroking her knuckles with your thumb. "If I would have known that I would have said it a lot sooner."

After a friendly lunch, she drags you a few blocks in some direction. You have no idea where you are, but you'd follow her all over the city. Being with her in this amazing city places you in a state of constant awe.

You've been staring at a street performer so long that you don't notice that she's on her phone until you hear her talk. "Yeah we're outside." You turn around and look at the building you've been standing in front of for an indefinite amount of time because you've been so entertained by the juggler, you hadn't even noticed that you'd stopped walking.

You can't help, but look back to the entertainer who had started playing the harmonica while juggling. You need to start to pull out your wallet to walk over and give him some cash when two arms wrap around your shoulders.

When you turn your head and you see big blue eyes framed by blonde bangs. The way the eyes shine immediately makes you smile. You hold Brittany by her waist and squeeze her to you. She laughs her infectious laugh and squeezes you back.

When you realize that this was all part of a plan, you turn to Rachel and sweep her into your arms. Her mouth is close to your ear as she giggles in your arms. You decide to go with it instead of panicking. This is your last day here and you're going to take advantage of it. You close your eyes and enjoy the fact that her breath on your neck warms your whole body and that Brittany has put her arms around both of you in a group hug.

"I hate to break up this love-fest, but we have to go pick up Santana," Rachel mumbles into your shoulder.

At that, you're almost desperate to get away from her because of how much you were turn on by her lips moving against you, even though there was a layer of fabric between the two. You take a step back at Brittany picks Rachel up and spins her around. Then Brittany practically jumps out in front of a cab to stop it so you can get going.

You can't help, but smile at how eager Brittany is to get to Santana. You wonder what it's like to have a love like that, especially when someone is so eager to see you as well. Brittany's practically vibrating in her seat.

"I hope that your boss isn't too upset with you," Rachel mentions to Brittany, "I just wanted you, Quinn, and Santana to get to spend some time together before she leaves."

Brittany shrugs, "He didn't seem made. He seemed kinda sad. What did you tell him?"

"That your brother was in an accident," Rachel leans into you and wraps her hands around your arm.

You smile and lean back into her. Maybe for these last few hours you can pretend like she's in love with you and maybe get it out of your system. Then you turn your head to her and you're able to smell her hair which tells you that no, you'll never be able to get enough of her.

"I don't have a brother," Brittany has on her adorably confused face. Like that time you tried to explain to her how to open her locker for the first time or every time she had a Spanish test. Then it clicks and she lets out a smile, "You lied."

"Well I…" Rachel contorts her face, trying to think of something that doesn't make it sound like she lied to get Brittany out of work. She finally smiles and nods against your shoulder, "I lied."

When the cab pulls to a stop, Brittany jumps out of the car and disappears into her apartment building, leaving you and Rachel in the dust. Rachel pays the cabbie and keeps her hold of your arm as you walk into the building. "Tell me that is not the cutest thing you've ever seen."

"Well I did see them when they first got together," you wistfully smile, "But yeah they're pretty cute."

"It must be nice ya know?" her smile fades and her presses the button for the elevator. "Being in love like that." She deeply sighs and puts your arm around her as she slides her arms around your waist.

You nod. You figure if the love goes both ways it must be nice because this one-way thing is a torturous hell.

"How much do you want to bet that Brittany was so impatient she took the stairs?" Rachel asks as she pulls away from you. The elevator doors open and you both step in. You've had a fantasy that started like this. The next part of the fantasy is a blackout. It ends with the rescue workers prying the doors open as you both try to fix your clothes to make it look like you've been wearing them the whole time.

When you get to the apartment, you find the door wide open and Brittany with her arms wrapped around Santana. They're both just standing their holding each other. You can't see Brittany's face, but Santana's eyes are closed and she's wearing a content smile.

"Not that I don't love this," Santana pulls away slightly. She opens her eyes and sees you and Rachel standing at the door, "But to what do I owe this? No one's died or hurt right?"

"Just Brittany's brother," you nudge Rachel's shoulder with your own and you, Rachel and Brittany giggle while Santana quirks an eyebrow.

Brittany patiently explains, "Rachel called my director and told him that my brother was in an accident and that she was on her way to pick me up."

"Why didn't I think of that?" Santana grins and kisses Brittany.

You pull Rachel all the way into the apartment and close the door behind her. You notice that she seems nervous so you put your hand on the small of her back in reassurance. She looks up at you with a thankful smile.

Rachel finally announces, "I thought that since Quinn is leaving toward tomorrow, despite my best attempts to keep her here, "she glances at you with a disappointed smile before turning Brittany and Santana, "We should all spend the evening together."

Santana nods and looks from Rachel to you, "I agree."

Brittany breaks away from Santana and wraps her arms around your neck, "I'll miss you, like a lot."

You smile into her shoulder, "I'll miss you too Brit."

"But she'll come back," Rachel adds. You can feel her hand on your back and you squeeze Brittany a little tighter, to relieve the tension the simple touch has caused you. "A lot. Because if she doesn't we'll all go back to Lima and kidnap her."

You laugh as Brittany pulls away. The blonde takes your hand and swings them between you. "You better." Her eyes are earnest.

"I will," You say, although you're sure it's a lie. You look across the room at the one person who can tell you're lying and you see that she knows.

Santana clenches her jaw and lets out a heartbreaking sigh. Your smile falls and you walk over to her. When you pause in front of her, you open your arms and she steps into them. She doesn't like this touchy feely crap unless it's with Brittany, but she knows you probably won't see each other in a long time after tomorrow.

"Why can't you just stay?" her voice is weak and you're the only one that hears it. You know she needs someone to be there for her and it rips you up that you're going to leave her.

"I'm sorry San," you sigh into her. Her muscles seem to tense under you and you know she's just become strong for you because you need it now. You close your eyes and pull away before you both start to cry, which you both hate.

You turn back and see Brittany looks sad, while Rachel's eyes are watery. You shake your head to keep from crying on your own. "So where are we go?"

"Do you want to go clubbing or have a low key night?" Rachel asks.

Brittany slides up next to you and takes your hand again. You smile at her and squeeze her hand. She smiles back which melts your heart.

"Low key," you reply, "Definitely low key."

"We should hit up that new lounge on 34th," Santana offers, looking at Brittany, "Have you seen it?"

"Baby I haven't seen anything but the inside of the theatre for weeks," Brittany lets go of you and wraps her arms around Santana's hips.

Santana opened her mouth to speak, but a ringing interrupted her. Brittany and Rachel automatically check their phones, but Rachel's the only one who answers. With a smile on her face she said, "Hey you."

That's sickeningly sweet tone of her voice means that David is on the other end of the line. Your stomach churns with the telltale signs of vomiting. You clench your jaw, determined not to make a fool of yourself this time. Just because she's not yours doesn't mean you can act like a child every time you see or hear them together.

"You did?" her voice raises and she courteously steps away from you to continue her conversation. You watch her every movement. How her head bows and how her face lights up, "Tonight?"

You heart falls to your feet. He wants to take her out tonight and she's going to blow you off because he's more important, only solidifying for you that there never has been or ever will be a chance for you two.

"Actually babe," the term of endearment that comes out of her mouth makes you clench your jaw. You feel bad that you hate him because he seems like a good guy. "I can't tonight. It's Quinn's last night in town…I know, but this is important…No you go ahead and go. Take Andrew or Sydney or someone….okay…yeah you too." She hangs up and rejoins your semi-circle, "Okay, so where are we going?" She loops her arm through yours.

You smile. At least for right now, you rate above her boyfriend and that's good enough for you. Your eyes finally scan Santana and Brittany. Santana is explaining to Rachel where you're all going, but when you find Brittany you see a studious stare that frightens you. She's looking at you, analyzing your body language and the way your face emotes. You immediately look down and take your arm away from Rachel, "I-uh-gotta make a call. I'll be right back." You retreat to your temporary room and close the door. You hope that Brittany hasn't figured it out. Not right before you leave.


	5. Chapter 5

You decide to call Finn because you've had no contact with him since you got here and feel kinda bad. Plus you need to make sure he remembers to pick you up from the airport tomorrow. Part of you wishes that he doesn't answer. A simple voicemail would be easier. But when he does you both say hi awkwardly and you remind him that you're coming home tomorrow.

"Oh okay," he says like he forgot. You know he probably did.

"And when I get back," you pause. You feel the need to give him some sort of foreshadowing as to what is going to happen when you get back. You scratch together what's left of your courage, "We need to talk."

"About what?"

"I don't want to talk about it over the phone."

His voice lowers and he answers, "Oh." You know he know what it's about and you feel bad. You wanted to tell him in person. You honestly didn't think he'd figure it out this fast. Finally he speaks, "Do you want me to call the attorney or do you want to?"

Tears form in your eyes blurring your vision as get up from the bed and move to the window. You stare at the street below. You don't want to be divorced. It makes you feel like a failure. "Whatever you want."

"Do you have his number?"

"His card is in my desk. Top drawer on the right," your voice cracks and you're angry at it for betraying you.

"Hey," he tried to sooth you, which only makes you feel worse, "We both knew it wasn't working. I'm glad that you finally said something. I want you to be happy."

"I want the same for you," you answer honestly, "I'll always love you Finn."

"I love you too," he says with a quiet solidarity that you know is true.

Tears fall down your face and you try to sniffle as quietly as possible. Finally you let out a long sigh, "I'll be back in Lima tomorrow and we can talk about the details."

"Okay," he answers, "I'll pick you up."

"You don't have to."

"I know."

"Thanks Finn. I'll see you tomorrow."

"Okay. See ya."

You hang up and sink back onto the bed. You pull a pillow down and rest your head on it. You need to sneak to the bathroom and try to make it look like you haven't been crying, so you can enjoy your last night in New York.

But you have to do something else first. Word travels really fast in Lima and you want your mom to hear of your divorce from you and not from her hairdresser or the guy that walks his dog in front of her house.

You pull out your phone for the conversation with your mom that you really, really, really, desperately don't want to have. You don't want to disappoint her.

When she says hello you answer with, "Mom I'm getting a divorce." You didn't mean to say it like that, but you had to get it out before you avoided it.

There's a pregnant pause, "What?"

"I'm getting a divorce." You repeat evenly and slowly.

There's a moment of silence that's killing you. When she finally speaks you're startled because you were going through every doomsday scenario you can think of, "Are you still in New York?"

"Yeah," you sit up and swallow hard, "Are you mad?"

"Of course not. I want you to be happy and it's been evident for a while that you're not happy." She goes on, "Did you meet someone in New York?"

"Wha- No mom," you shake your head even though she's not there to see it. "I just…found some perspective."

You can hear her moving around and a door open and shut. "Mom what are you doing?"

"I'm on my way to you sister's house," she explains. There's another pause, "Are you keeping the house?"

"No," you've already had this divorce in your head. Of course you never get past putting all your things in your car and driving off.

"Where are you going to live honey?" she asks softly, "You know you're always welcome to come home and if you don't want to live with me, I'm sure Frannie would love to have you over."

"I'll figure it out mom," you glance at the clock and realize that you've been in here a while. The girls are waiting for you so you tell her, "I gotta go mom, but I'll see you tomorrow."

"Okay Quinnie," she lets out a sigh, "Are you going to be okay?"

"Yeah," you nod although again, she can't see you, "I'm just going to hang out with the girls tonight."

"What girls?" she asks as you get off the bed and look at yourself in the mirror over the dresser. Your eyes are pink around the edges, but that's the only sign that you've shed a tear, which is pretty good for you.

"Santana and Brittany," you lean forward and brush the hair out of your face, "And Rachel Berry."

You can hear her car start and you're about to tell her to hang up so she can drive when she asks, "Rachel Berry? Like…" you are her shuffle some things around and wonder what she's doing, "Like Rachel Berry from the Broadway Cares charity album?"

"Probably," you smile a little. You're proud of Rachel all over again. "I went to high school with her mom."

"You did?"

"Yeah mom," you chuckle. "You watched her perform more than once."

"That was her? Oh my god, Quinn she's outstanding," your mom gushes.

You walk to the door of the bedroom and open it. Brittany, Santana, and Rachel are all on the couch watching TV. "You know mom she's right here." The three look back at you and before any of them can say anything you ask Rachel, "Do you want to talk to one of your biggest fans in Lima?"

Rachel let's out a wide smile, "Sure." You have a feeling she'd want to her fans wherever they are.

"Here she is," you hand off the phone to Rachel who walks toward the kitchen with it.

You take Rachel's spot on the couch and Brittany's head is immediately on your shoulder. "Who is that?"

"It's my mom," you answer and wrap your arms around her.

Santana eyes you over Brittany's shoulder. There's something accusatorily in her gaze. She holds your eyes and says, "Hey babe can you get my black purse?"

Brittany nods and gets off of the couch, dropping a kiss on your head and one on Santana's lips before she disappears into their bedroom.

"Why were you crying Q?" Santana whispers.

Your eyes drop to the ground, "I…I called Finn to make sure he remember that I'd be coming home tomorrow and now we both know we're getting a divorce."

She studies you for a moment, "Do you not want to?"

"I do," you cautiously take her eyes, "I just…It hurts you know? I mean…my life up until now has been…"

"Sucky? Shitty?" she asks a wicked smile on her face, "A farce?"

You playfully push her, "Yeah that."

Brittany reappeared with Santana's purse and sank onto the couch between you, "No fighting." A giddy smile plays on her lips while you and Santana giggle on either side of her. You love your friends.

Your ears tune in Rachel who is pacing in the kitchen, smiling. "Why thank you Ms. Fabray…oh no it was my pleasure…We should have coffee next time I'm in Lima….again it was my pleasure. Thank you….goodbye." You turn to look over the back of the couch at her as she catches your eyes. She shakes your phone at you, "You didn't tell me that your mom was a Broadway aficionado."

You watch her as she walks to the couch and sits down next to you, barely squeezing in. Her entire side is presses up against you and for a moment you lose your breath. You force your brain into motion and shrug, "I didn't know."

"So," Santana focuses everyone's attention, "Are we ready?"

"Always," Rachel grins and gets off of the couch. She offers you her hands and you take them. She surprises you with how easily she pulls you up. Once you're on your feet her hands are gone from yours and her arms are around your waist.

Her affection always amazes you. You've never been that affectionate and you're not sure you know anyone besides Brittany who is. But you're thankful for it nonetheless.

As you all file out, you lag as much as you can and grab Brittany's hand. She smiles at you and squeezes you hand. You walk a little slower being Rachel and Santana who are debating about taking a cab or walking.

"Brit," you quietly say, holding her to your side.

"Yeah," her smile fades and her eyes start to probe your face for what you're going to say. You can't stop a glance up at Rachel to make sure she's not listening. When you're sure she's not, you see that the wheels in Brittany's mind are grinding as faster than usual.

Your heart starts to hammer because you're scared she's figured it out so you spit out, "Please, please, please Brit, anything you may or may not notice about me and…anyone else, don't tell anyone. Even Santana."

Her eyebrows furrow and her lips scrunch to one side. She seems to understand, but you feel like she's debating with herself about what to say. Finally when you get to the stairs, she nods, "Okay."

You let out a hopeful smile, "Thanks B."

You're usually exactly sure how you get into every situation you're in. Mostly because it's your own doing, but how you ended up on a pier overlooking the Hudson River is beyond you. You and Brittany started doing shots and then Brittany wanted to dance. So you willingly went when she drug you to the dance floor, which wasn't really a dance floor. It was just a small open space. You didn't actually mind that you were the only two people in the whole place dancing, because Brittany's happy which makes everyone around her happy.

However you get tired and dizzy so you both walk back to the table. You come back to sit down, but she pulls Santana up with her and they both go dance.

The second you sit down, Rachel's arm are around your waist and her head is on your shoulder, "Stay."

"Hmm?" you ask, not sure what she means by that. You pick up a drink on the table that may or may not be yours.

"Stay in New York," she whispers. She picks up her head and rests her forehead on your temple. Her breath slides along your neck and up around your ear. A shiver makes your whole body tremble. You know she's beyond drunk. She's a lot smaller than you and Brittany and Santana's liver is way more experienced than the girl at your side.

She goes on and you close your eyes. Right now it's nice to pretend that she's in love with you too. "I'll do anything."

Now you squeeze your eyes closed as tight as possible. This is horrible and beautiful at the same time. You'd do anything to keep this moment forever. You just turn to her with a sweet smile and cup her cheek, "You're drunk."

She giggles and nods, "So drunk. I didn't mean to 'cause it's your- last- last night here but," she points to the two girls that are grinding to the beat of the music, capturing the attention of every other person in the bar, "they kept ordering drinks and..." she trails off. She freezes and then looks back at you, "I don't remember what I was saying."

She's pretty much stuck to your side when Brittany guides everyone out of the bar and down the street. You don't know where you're going, but you trust the girls that are all around you. That's how you end up on the pier. The lights across the river stand out against the dark water.

You look next to you at Rachel who is practically attached to your arm. Of course you don't mind. Being close to her has made you happier than you've been in a while. She looks up at you with clear eyes and a smile that lights up the night. You have a tense all of your neck muscles so you don't dip your head down and kiss her.

"I'll miss you," she looks over the water and sighs.

"I'll miss you too," you answer with an equally depressing sigh.

She glances at Brittany and Santana who are sharing a moment. Their arms are around each other's waists and their foreheads are resting against each other. You smile because they're so perfect together and you can never imagine one without the other.

"You know," Rachel pauses to make sure she has your attention. When you look at her, she continues, "If you ever want to move here, my spare bedroom is yours. No questions, no catches, no fine print."

After to digest what she just offered, you sweep her up into your arms, hugging her like you'll never see her again. "You're amazing Rachel Berry," you murmur into her hair, "I'm so proud of you."

You feel her arms tighten around you and your lean into her. The smell of her hair makes your eyes flutter shut. It's so sweet and it's so familiar.

She takes a shuttering breath and sniffles, "What can I do to get you to stay? We could be the friends we should have been for years."

You're quiet and still because maybe if you don't response she'll forget she asked. Of course that doesn't work and she patiently waits for an answer. She sigh, "Rach, I want to, I do, but-"

She cuts you off by holding up her hand, "It's unfair of me to ask you to uproot your life. I just don't want to end up like all those people who say, yeah we'll keep in touch and we don't. As long as you promise to adhere to a very strict Skype and phone call schedule, I'll be happy."

You put your hand up in the air and nod, "I swear."

She laughs and throws her arms around your shoulders. When you open your eyes in the embrace, you see Brittany looking at you. There's a knowing look in her eyes and you know that she knows. You just let out a quirked eyebrow, hoping to communicate that yes this is what you were talking about during that cryptic conversation in the hallway and that you still want her to keep her mouth shut.

She solemnly nods. Santana steals her attention back, pointing out a constellation in the sky.

It doesn't take long for a security guard to run you out of the piers. Apparently he had already had a run in with Brittany, who jump smiled at him and walked past him while he shook his head.

"Ice cream?" Santana asks the group, but mostly Brittany.

After they swung by an ice cream parlor to get Brittany and Santana some ice cream. You and Rachel declined even thought Brittany offered to buy it for you. Rachel explained to Brittany that vegans don't eat anything with animal products. You smile because Santana doesn't look happy at all as Brittany's eyes get wide.

Before you get back to Brittany and Santana's apartment, Brittany, and by default Santana, are now vegans. You feel the need to stand between Rachel and Santana so that the diva lives to sing another day.

When you get into the kitchen of the apartment, Santana starts passing out water bottles. When you get yours, you start to open it. However before you can get the cap off, two arms fling around your neck and you find yourself pinned between the counter and Brittany.

You pull the water bottle from between you and lean into her, "What's wrong B?"

"Santana's sad and she wants to hug you like this so I'm doing it for her," she sighs and you feel her chin rest on your shoulder.

You grin and look over your friend's shoulder at Santana who has her arms crossed and her head tilted down while she watched her foot scrape across the floor. Her eyes slowly find yours. When she sees you smiling she rolls her eyes and looks back down at the ground.

When Brittany pulls away, Rachel a place next to you and leans into your side. She stands on her toes so that she can whisper in your ear. Just her vicinity makes you need to hold onto the counter behind you to stand and when her breath hits your ear, your eyes flutter closed. It takes you a minute to realize that she asks if you want her to distract Brittany for you so you and Santana can have some time.

You slowly nod and feel your heart break as she moves away. You vaguely remember telling her, "Two minutes."

Rachel takes Brittany's hand and leads her to the TV, "Let's put on a movie, Brit."

You turn to Santana who is shifting her weight from one foot to the other. She clenches her jaw and her eyes focus hard on you. You can see through the tough exterior. She starts anxiously tapping her foot and you let out a deep sigh.

Deciding that waiting for her could take a while, you close the distance between you two and pause waiting to see if she was going to accept what you're trying to do. She finishes what you've started and slides her arms around your waist. You bury your face in her collar, allowing you to close your eyes.

"This sucks," she quietly adds.

"Yeah I know." You do. You know more than any of them because when you go back to Lima, she's still going to have Brittany and Brittany's still going to have her and Rachel's still going to have her career and…that guy that you don't like thinking about. And you're going to have a divorce and a dead-end job.

After Santana decided that she'd had enough lovey dovey crap, she pulled back and walked with you to the living room where Rachel and Brittany had just turned to the TV, pretending like they hadn't been watching you the whole time.

You sat down between Rachel and Brittany. They both leaned into you. Santana pretended like it was an accident, but when she put her arm around Brittany her hand landed on your back.

It was getting late and Brittany was the first to pass out. Santana wasn't far behind her. You knew that Rachel had fallen asleep as well because her chest that was pressed against your side was slowly and evenly expanding and deflating. Your arm had crossed behind her back and your fingertips were grazing a sliver of skin on her side where her shirt had ridden up in her slumbering position. Touching her skin was exhilarating even though it was innocent and an accident, but it was more than you ever hoped for.

You rest your cheek against the top of her head and take a deep breath, trying to commit her smell to memory. When you're sure that you have, you close your eyes and allow yourself to fall asleep, hoping to dream of her.

When you wake up the next morning, you don't open your eyes. You don't want to because it would make this day real. You'd have to face that you're leaving your best friends in New York while slink back to Lima to live out your days faking a life you've always and never wanted. You take a deep breath through your nose and frown. Rachel's smell has been replaced by a much sweeter, fruitier smell. When you open your eyes, the head that's resting on your chest is covered with blonde hair.

As soon as you get your bearings you realize that Rachel's gone. You try to see where she'd gone, but you can't see anything, but the living room and the back of the couch behind you. You're heart feels like it's been smashed with a hammer. Tears jump to your eyes. She left without saying goodbye.

You try to slip out from under Brittany. You're unsuccessful at keeping her asleep and she sits up, accidentally dumping Santana off of her legs, sending the med student tumbling to the ground ass first.

"What the fuck," Santana's eyes pop open.

Brittany slides off of the couch and onto the floor to kiss Santana and apologize.

You scan the rest of the apartment and realize that Rachel is really gone. You check your watch and see that it's almost nine a.m., meaning that your flight leaves in three hours. You swallow hard. You have to get in a taxi in an hour and Rachel's gone.

You quickly trot to the bathroom and close the door. When you look at yourself in the mirror, you realize that tears are already dripping from your face. You turn away from the mirror because you can't stand to look at yourself like this.

You couldn't really expect to be the center of her universe until you left could you? She probably has rehearsal or an interview or she's probably on Oprah. You can't really think of a universe where you'd rate above being on Oprah.

After a few minutes, you know that you need to get out of the bathroom so you can spend the rest of the morning with your friends. Even if Rachel isn't there, Brittany and Santana still are and you'd rather be with them than locked in a bathroom crying over someone you never had a chance with anyway.

You wash your face and brush your teeth before walking back into the living room. When she see what's happening in the kitchen you feel ridiculously stupid and pathetic. Rachel is putting down a tray of four paper coffee cups and a pink box that no doubt contains breakfast for the four of you.

When she sees you, her eyes light up and she immediately sets everything down to trap you in a hug you'd never want to escape from.

You all chat about unimportant things as you drink your coffee and eat your vegan breakfast pastries. You're glad that you never really unpacked much because you stay at the apartment until the last minute. They all walk you down to the cab and while Brittany puts your bag in the cab, Santana tries her best not to cry as she hugs you goodbye. Rachel and Brittany are having more trouble containing their tears and the second you see the two of them crying, you start crying as well. Rachel texts you to make sure she has your phone number down right and makes you promise to call her the second you land. Santana is the kind of quiet she gets when she's really upset and it nearly takes her and Rachel two minutes to pry Brittany from your side.

Once in the cab, the door closes and you try desperately not to lose it. You swallow sobs until you think that you can control yourself enough to breath normally.

You think that you should have listened when she told you to stay. You can't help, but stare out the window and become completely saturated with dread. You'll miss the buildings and the constant chaos. You'll miss having someone to wake up to that you don't resent for keeping you down. You'll miss Brittany's bubbliness and Santana's fiery nature. You'll miss everything about Rachel. How she was really friendly with you and how you were comfortable and nervous around her all at once. You're going to miss her drunken affection and the way she doesn't mind when you just look at her for a while. You're gonna miss everything about the way she moves and her expressions and how she sings when she...does everything.

When the taxi pulls up to La Guardia, you just sit there for a minute. You can hear the planes taking off, transporting people to places where across the globe. You know you should get out because your flight is in an hour and a half and you have to get through security and all.

"You gonna get out?" the driver asks, glancing back at you.

You are quiet and still for a moment. There is so much going through your mind. You could turn back right now. Tell him to take you back to where he picked you up and forget about Lima forever.

Finally when the driver turns in his seat to give you the stink eye, you slide out of the seat. That's just a pipe dream. Getting out of Lima is a dream you sacrificed when you decided that you'd do anything to make sure Rachel escaped. You traded your happiness for hers and that was okay with you.

After getting through security and finding your gate you also find that your plane is going to be delayed. Two hours later, you hear from the other passengers that the plane that supposed to pick you up is stuck in Texas because of an ice storm. You roll your eyes. Isn't Texas supposed to be like a hot desert with tumbleweeds and shit?

Finally when you're on the plane, your tired and starving. The flight attendant's chipper smile makes you want to punch her in the face. You sink into you seat and wish there was an ejector button on your seat that will shoot you into a space.

Finn picks you up at the airport and you call Rachel to let her know you landed. It goes straight to voicemail and you realize that she's performing right now. Now there's nothing to distract you from how awkward this is right now. Finn is staring straight ahead, not saying anything at all and you're immediately miserable.

When you get to the house, you find yourself sitting across the table from him. When you ate a meal together this is how you'd sit. The awkward silence that had befallen the meals of the past few years is over you now.

You decide to finally speak. You clear your throat and start, "How do you want to do this?"

He, as expected, shrugs. He doesn't look mad or sad. He just looks lost, which is exactly how you feel. No one really tells you how to get a divorce.

You sigh, "I don't want us to fight over this. You can have whatever you want. Unless you want my black Manolos. I'm not budging on that."

He cracks a smile, which was your intention. You smile back and know you two can get through this.

But two hours later you're both in tears. You're angry with yourself for starting to cry first. After you told him that he can keep the house and all of the furniture, you start to break. He sees this and gets teary-eyed as well.

"I'm gonna go stay with my sister," you finally sigh, "I'll come back tomorrow and get my stuff."

He stands with you and walks with you to the door. When you open the door and step outside, he leans on the frame, "Do you need anything?"

You sadly shake her head. You're in awe of how well he's taking this. "Do you? I can order you dinner if you want."

A small smile adorns his face, "I think I'll be okay."

"Sorry," you bow your head. You didn't mean to imply that he couldn't take care of himself.

"It's okay," he nods, "It'll be okay."

"I'll uh…see you tomorrow," you add awkwardly and walk to your car.

You call your sister to ask her if you can stay the night with her. Your sister knows enough to ask few questions when you're glowering like you are. She has known what's going on for a while and was the one that recommended the attorney, handing you his card with a "you know if you ever need one."

After passing up dinner, your sister makes sure you're comfortable on the couch and apologizes for the mess of the guest rooms. She tells you if she'd had known you'd be spending the night she wouldn't have had them both remodeled at the same time.

"I'm fine," you state for the millionth time until she finally goes off to bed.

You wonder what Brittany and Santana are doing now. You're almost one hundred percent sure Santana is studying. You can picture her and Brittany on their couch, Brittany absently stroking Santana's hair while the brunette reads off the symptoms of endocarditis

You can see Rachel laughing with her friends at an after show dinner. The whole cast is there, but the attention is all on her just like she likes it. David is mysteriously absent from your vision, but what can you do? In fact, you're the one that's sitting next to her.

You let out a deep sigh and roll over. It's not like you're going to be able to sleep, but if you're going to torture yourself with fantasies that'll never happen, you're going to be comfortable.


	6. Chapter 6

When you're done fantasizing about what your friends are doing, it's late. You're not sure how late because it's dark in your sister's living room and you can't see the clock on the wall. But the burn in you eyes when you blink tells you that it's a few hours past when you should have gone to sleep.

You feel like talking to someone. Scratch that. You feel like listening to someone talk. You reach around yourself feeling for your phone. You find it between the cushions. When you press a button and the phone wakes up, you squint because the initial blast of light hurts your eyes. Seeing that it's almost 3a.m. just makes you sigh. You don't know anyone that's awake at this hour. You tilt your head to the side and wish your sister would wake up.

Finally you give up. She, and her husband, Ryan are sound asleep. You're alone. The sole person awake in this sleepy town. You think about going out for coffee but the only place open this late is the adult video store and you doubt they have coffee. You probably wouldn't go even if they did. You certainly wouldn't drink it.

Then you think about her again. It's become an inevitability. Every time your brain is not focusing on something else it's on her. She's probably asleep, getting her necessary eight hours to give her peek performance. You smile. You have no idea how she judges how she performs because you've never seen anything from her that was less than amazing. You're sure at some point she had a bar or pie chart and multiple graphs depicting her sleep/performance ratio. You quietly laugh into the dark. Even when she's so far away, she makes you feel better.

You pick up your phone. You remember that you're friends with an insomniatic med student. You hope she's asleep because she needs it, but you're almost sure she's not. Just in case she finally laid her head down to rest, you text so you won't wake her up. _You up?_

The reply is almost immediate, _Of course. Immunology test on Friday. What's up?_ _Besides us?_

_Just can't sleep. Frannie's couch is not comfortable._

You can guess what she's going to say before the text comes back, _We have an extra bed._

You roll onto your back and stare into the dark. You remember Rachel's offer. Then Brittany's offer. Now Santana's offering. You don't really remember the last time someone wanted you somewhere that much. Let alone three people. Maybe last Thanksgiving, but that's just because you make the best mac n cheese in town.

Your phone lights up in your hand and you see she's calling you. Before you can say hello she's asking, "Fall asleep?"

"No. I was just thinking."

"About?" she prods.

You sigh and decide to tell her. What's the harm? You know that she knows that the three of them had been dropping hints all of yesterday about how you should stay, "About how you guys want me in New York."

"You want to be here too," she states matter-of-factly.

You wonder if Brittany figured you out and told Santana so you cautiously ask, "How do you know that?"

"Because everyone wants to be here," she adds. You can tell there's a smile on her face. If she knows, she's not telling.

"What do you think I should do?" it came out as more of a sigh than you would have liked.

"Get the fuck out of Lima. Live with us or the superstar." You usually love how blunt she is, but you were hoping to avoid her stating that so obviously.

You're quiet for a moment before asking, "What if I can't cut it in New York?"

"Am I still talking to Quinn Fabray because it sounds like I'm talking to a chicken shit."

That hurt. Yeah you're scared. Yeah the idea of leaving the sinkhole you call home makes you want to hide, but staying makes you want to die.

"Q?" she asks, her voice softer, "Just...give it two weeks. If you don't love it, move somewhere else, but...can you really be happy in Lima?"

No. The answer is no. You know this. Especially if you're alone. "I'll think about it."

"Okay," she says accepting that you will think about it, but something in her voice makes you think she doubts you'll take her up on it.

"Get some sleep."

"Okay, you too."

"Goodnight."

It's been two days. You've spent the last few days numbly moving your stuff into storage and watching your world move in slow motion all around you. Rachel called a few times, but the conversations are always short. She's a busy person after all. Well on her way to becoming Broadway royalty. You continued searching for her on the internet and find that she's scheduled to be interviewed on TV. You set an alarm on your phone so you'll know when it's on.

Right now she's telling you about her pre-show ritual while actually going through it, which keeps you having to stifle laughs. She laughs with you, but assures you that it's entirely essential to her warm-up. Finally she tells you that she needs to get off of the phone because people don't pay $300 a ticket to watch her talk on the phone.

"Have you given any thought to moving to New York?" she asks, "Now would be the most opportune time. I'm going to move into my new apartment this weekend." You can almost see the anxious look on her face.

You smile and toss an empty box down in front of the bookshelf, "I'm still thinking."

"Two weeks," she adds, "Santana said to remind you that you can give yourself two weeks and if you hate it you can move. You're free and single with a job that you can do anywhere. Find somewhere that makes you happy Quinn. Please, please, please, please."

You can't help, but chuckle. You don't say anything until she adds, "I really gotta go. I'm sorry."

"It's okay," you sigh. You don't want her to get off of the phone, but as entertaining as it is no one really shelled out that money to watch her try to make you happy over the phone.

When you hang up, you know she's right. You look down at the picture in your hands. Your Nationals win in glee. Your arms are around Rachel, because you momentarily forgot that you weren't supposed to be friends and you allowed yourself to feel. The glass is cold under your fingers as you trace her face with the tip of your finger. It's a blaring contrast to how warm she is when you're really holding her. You miss it. You miss it so much your arms ache to be around her.

After a deep breath you think what's two weeks to the hell of the 23 years you've been miserable here. Your palms start to sweat because you know you'd made up your mind.

Everyone you knew were friends with in high school besides Puck and Finn got out. You don't want to be them. You don't want to be like Karofsky who still lives with his mom and is working at the adult video store that doesn't serve coffee that you wouldn't drink. You don't want to be them. You want to be Mercedes who is in Columbus studying dentistry. Or like Artie and Tina who are in Seattle, both Seattle U grads, working on indie movies. Or like Sam who is in Austin quickly moving up in the extensive indie singer/songwriter scene.

You swallow your fear, forcing it away. You're not going to be a Lima Loser anymore. You're going to take a page out of high school Quinn's book and do something.

Two weeks. You're giving yourself two weeks to make it or break it in the big apple.

You throw the last of your books into the box. Finn was never much for reading so they're mostly yours. As you carry the box to your car, you glance at the pictures on the wall. You remember that there were times that you were actually happy with him. You don't bother to take down the pictures and place them in the box. He can keep them. You'll grab the one off of the nightstand on your last sweep.

On the way to the car, you find Finn sitting on the front porch steps, his long legs resting on the bottom step. There's an open beer next to him and he doesn't look at you as you pass. He stares hard out into the street watching the leaves tumble with the soft breeze.

You know that even though you're no longer in love with each other, if you ever were, this is still breaking both of your hearts. You're scared out of your mind to be starting over without the safety net that he's afforded you since before you both graduated from McKinley. You're now alone in the world with no direction.

You drop the box into the passenger's seat with a heavy sigh. Once the door is closed, you rest your forehead on the roof of your car. A few tears slip out from under your closed eyelids.

When you look behind you, he's gone. He probably went inside to get another beer or avoid looking at you. You take a deep breath and wipe your eyes, knowing that you only have a few more things to grab.

As you open the front door, Puck's truck rumbles up to the curb in front of your house. He gets out in his stained work jeans and grabs a case of beer from the front seat, tucking it under his arm. He slowly makes his way up the walkway, his eyes holding yours. You watch him as he stops in front of you. He places the beer on the bench you put on the front porch to give it more curb appeal, but never really use.

When he wraps his muscular arms around you a new waves of tears wash over you. You lean into his chest and let out a quiet sob. He patiently rubs your back until you settle down. You sniffle, trying to compose yourself, but don't leave his embrace. You lock your arms around his waist and add, "Take care of him okay?"

"Not a problem," he replies. "We've got huge plans. We're going to drink ourselves stupid tonight."

"Don't forget about strip clubs," you pull away with a friendly smile.

He chuckles, "Babe look who you're talking to. If there's anyone who isn't going to forget about naked women, it's me." He loops his arm around your shoulders, "You gonna be okay?"

You let out a sigh, "No idea."

"What are you going to do?" he asks, concern coating his face, "Where are you going to live?"

You pause, "I, um…I'm moving to New York for a trial period. I'm giving it two weeks and if I don't have a job by then, I'm coming back to live with my sister and beg for my old job back."

"You're going to live with Santana and Brittany?" he slowly nods.

You shake your head, "When they actually have time together they have obnoxiously loud sex. I couldn't sleep there."

He smirks and nods, "She told me."

"You still talk to Santana?"

"No, Brittany," he affectionately rubs your shoulder, "She calls about once a month to check up on me. I have no idea why, but it's nice. So where are you going to be staying?"

You fight a smile. Where your staying is the best part of this harebrained scheme, "Probably with Rachel."

"No way," he smiles, "Rachel Berry?"

You nod.

"When did you decide to move?" he asks, ripping open the case of beer and popping the top.

You shrug, "Um, like two hours ago."

"Really?" he chuckles. You find it funny yourself and you know that some people might think it's crazy, but that's what your life has become. You're miserable and you hate it. You were happy in New York. Elementary logic states that when you're miserable, you move in with the most beautiful woman you can think of and torture yourself with the knowledge that even though you live together you sleep in different rooms and sometimes there's someone else in her bed as well, although you just turn up the music and pretend that there's not.

You lead him into the house. Once inside he walks into the kitchen and finds Finn. You hear them talk for a moment while you linger in the living room. After you peer inside and see Puck toss Finn another beer. You're very thankful for Puck. He's always been the comic relief to the tragedy of your marriage.

You glance at the clock on your phone and know that you need to go tell your mom and your sister what's going to happen. You gather the last of your things and toss them into your car. You walk back inside and see that there's a hockey game on TV and both of the men are sitting on the couch watching it.

"Leaving?" Puck stands up.

You nod solemnly, your eyes on Finn as you hug Puck. Finally Finn meets your eyes and the look on his face physically hurts you. Your stomach seizes and you clench your fists, trying to relieve the tension. "I guess Puck already told you where I'm going." You can tell by the look in his eyes, the extra side of hurt, that Puck told him. "I'll give the lawyer my new address so he can just send what I need there."

He slowly rises off of the couch and for a moment you forgot how tall he is. You've spent three days with three normal, well close to normal, sized women. Brittany's tall, but Finn's a giant in comparison. He steps up to you and envelopes you in a hug. A final hug. Your ear is against his chest and you hear a muffled, "Be careful okay?"

"I will," you assure him.

"Tell Rachel I said hi," he adds as he pulls away. He drops back down on the couch and you nod. Your keys are in your hand. You look down at them and run your thumb over the teeth of the house key. It takes you a couple seconds to get it off of the ring. This feels so final to you. Like you're sealing this chapter of your life. You place the key on the entryway table and let out a deep breath.

You're leaving behind everything that you've ever known to take a stab at happiness. You're scared beyond belief, but part of your is relieved. You don't have to pretend to like your life anymore.

As you walk to your car you book a plane ticket to New York City for the next morning. You love modern technology. Then you check your bank account before you start you car. That should be enough to sustain you for two weeks in the city. You never knew that you'd come to appreciate the lack of frivolous things to spend money on in Lima. Now all you have to do is rationally explain to your mother and your sister that this is a good idea…no a great idea.

"Why New York City?" you mom asks, an hour later at the kitchen table in your sister's house. "If you want a big city, Columbus is so much closer or Cleveland…even Indianapolis…"

"Because mom," you sigh. "I've always wanted to go and I already have somewhere to live and job offers."

"Really?" you sister perks up. She looks sort of bored with the whole speech you presented to your mom. Your mom just looked alarmed.

You nod, "I met some other agents at the convention. They really liked me. And I won't be alone," you turn to your mom, "Brittany, Santana, and Rachel are there."

"Rachel Berry?" you mom asks.

You can't withhold a chuckle. It's kinda cool that your mom is so star struck over Rachel. "Yeah, I'm probably going to end up living with her."

"Really?" you mom looks all that more interesting and you think that if you end up staying in New York, that you're going to have to find ways to keep her from visiting all the time.

"I'm leaving in the morning," you state, having tactfully left that part out for a while. Both your mom and sister look surprised so you continue, "If I get a job within two weeks, I'll come back and get the rest of my stuff."

Your sister surprises you when she comes to your aid when your mom tells you that that's really soon. Your sister points out that you haven't been happy in the long time and this could make you happy and that you need to get happy as soon as possible.

And that is your plan. Get happy.

This plan lands you on a plane that leaves at five a.m. from the Lima airport. There aren't many people on it so you get your choice of seats. You sit by a window so you can watch Ohio disappear. You haven't called any of the girls yet because even though it's six a.m. in New York doesn't mean that any of them are awake yet. Except maybe Santana who is perpetually awake, but six a.m. Santana has never been a pleasant experience.

When you land you gather your meager luggage and hail a cab, still proud as hell that you can get one on the first wave. You rattle off Rachel's address and finally decide that you need to call her. You know you've been putting it off for as long as possible. It's almost nine and she should be up. But it goes straight to voicemail. So you try Santana. Her phone rings and rings and rings before ending up at the voicemail. You take one last stab with Brittany's phone, but end up with the same result. You sigh and hope that Rachel likes surprises.

The drive is long. You're not sure how long, but it's almost ten when the cab driver pulls to a stop…the second time. The first time you made him drive around the block because you're nervous. You were ecstatic to see the lights in the window of her living room on against the gloomy, overcast day, but you realize that this is real now.

As you ascend in the elevator, you wish she had answered her phone. You're probably lucky she's still here. Her new apartment is probably already ready for her.

It takes a few tries, but you finally manage to lift your hand to knock on her door. You're nervous. You're nervous beyond nervous. You want to throw up and jump up and down at the same time. You start to walk off before you hear the metal of the door handle rattle. You turn around and smile, happy that you caught her at home.

Except it's not her. A man opens the door and he definitely isn't David. _Jesus Christ how many boyfriends does she have?_

He smiles at you, "I'm sure you're looking for Ms. Berry. She'll be right out. I'm her real estate agent. She was just showing me her apartment." He steps back, "Please come in."

You're sure you look flustered and you're embarrassed to show up as she was showing the apartment to another agent. You shouldn't have just assumed that she'd wait for you to make up your mind. Things in New York City apparently do move at light speed. You don't have words until you see Rachel spot you from the doorway of her bedroom.

"Quinn!" she asks running to the front door, "I thought you were in Lima." She practically tackles you up against the back of the front door, throwing her arms around you.

"I was," you nod, suddenly unsure about showing up here, "I was just…I just…" You struggle to find something to say that doesn't make it seem like you flew here with twelve hours notice and came to her apartment to tell her you wanted to sell her apartment and move to the city and be her roommate and her best friend.

Somehow she seems to figure you out. Your luggage that she drags into the apartment must have given you up. A giddy squeal emits from her perfect lips as she closes the door behind you. A smile grows on her face and she looks to the man who she was showing around, "I'm sorry Ben. I don't believe I'll be needing your services anymore."

He looks shocked but tries to keep some dignity, "You have my card if you change your mind."

"Thank you," she tells him and leads him out. She laughs when she gets close to you and pulls you into a hug. "Do you already have your stuff or is to coming later or do you have to go back and get it?"

"I-" Again you struggle for something to say. You really do have a plan, but seeing Rachel again makes your mind stop moving all together and your muscle atrophy and you don't know which way is up. She pulls away and rubs your arm, "Don't worry about it. You just made a huge decision in less than three days. C'min and we'll talk about it."

Her couch was covered in boxes so she pulls you into her bedroom and sits you down. She moved to the headboard and you followed her, so you are both propped up while you sat.

"So are you going to grant me the extreme honor of living with me or are you going to live with the sex-crazed soap opera that is Brittany and Santana's apartment?" she asks with a playful smile.

You laugh at her descriptions and lean your head on the headboard, "If it's still okay with you, I want to live with you."

"Of course it is," she squeals and hugs you. "This is going to be so much fun! And just in time to move into the new apartment." She doesn't pull away from the hug though. She just stays, leaning on your chest.

She smile down at her and softly stroke her hair. She's so perfect. She's so supportive and sweet. You don't know how you survived the last few years without Rachel Berry in your life. Her thin t-shirt gives you the warmth of her skin without the temptation of actually touching it.

You both sit in silence for a while before she stutters out, "Are-are you okay?"

You've been trying not to think about that. You don't really want to remember that you're here with a small bank account embarking on a life that is most likely over your head. But right then, with Rachel everything felt right.

"Quinn?" she asks quietly. She pulls away slightly and she finds your eyes, "Are you okay?"

You realize that you haven't actually answered her yet. You close your eyes when her fingers tenderly massage your scalp and when you open them she's looking down at you with a light smile on her face.

You can't help, but smile back, "What?"

"I know we're supposed to be discussing your feelings and such, but," her grin grows as wide a possible and maybe even a little more than that, "The head cheerleader and two time prom queen is my best friend and roommate."

"That was high school," you're smile falters for a moment before you add, "I'm none of that anymore."

"Oh please," her smile fades a bit and her fingers stop moving in your hair, "Prom queen is forever." She flexes her smile trying to get you to smile again.

It works, but your smile is forced. She seems to realize that and cups your cheek, "Quinn," she takes a long, deep breath, "Your new life starts today okay?" Her smile hits you in the heart with a point that immediately sets your eyes to watering.

It's only a matter of seconds before she has your head cradled against her chest. It has been an emotional mess of the last seventy-two hours and you haven't properly cried for the burial of your marriage and your life in Lima. You don't mean to, but you start sobbing. In front of anyone else, you'd feel self-conscious, but this is Rachel. She just strokes your cheek and starts whispering to you that it'll all be okay. "…I promise."

When you wake up, you're still in her bed. You're not sure how long it's been, but she's gone. You glance at the clock on the nightstand and find that you've been in her room for over two hours. You really want to get out of the bed, but you feel so tired and it's become like a sanctuary for you.

"Are you okay?" her voice is barely a whisper from the door of the bedroom. You look up and nod. As you're making a move to sit up, she swiftly moves to the bed and places a hand on your shoulder pushing you back down. She sits next to you and looks down with a worried smile, "Are you hungry? I'm sure you haven't eaten yet."

You're not really sure that you're hungry, but you nod because you need to get moving before you fall asleep.

She rubs your upper arm and asks, "What do you want to eat?"

"A sandwich sounds good."

She laughs, her loud beautiful laugh that you can never get enough of and runs her fingers through your hair once, "I know just the place." Then she swats your ass and hops off the bed, "Get dressed Miss Fabray, I'm going to take you to what will soon be your favorite place to eat."

You can't move because you're still stunned that she hit your ass. A giggle erupts from deep in your stomach and you push off of the bed. Living with her will definitely be interesting.

After a quick sandwich Rachel has to go to her show, but not before making a copy of her old apartment and new apartment for you. She said she doesn't care if she's late while you two were patiently waiting for the guy at the hardware store to get the keys made.

But she shove her into the first cab that stops because as much as you love that she's willing to be late for you, you know that she hates to be late. She seems reluctant, but promises that she'll come right home after the show and eventually goes, making you promise to go see Santana and Brittany.

After you knock on the door to Brittany and Santana's apartment, it flies open with a , "Go away Br-" She freezes when she sees you. Her eyes are bloodshot and her face is wet. It's only a matter of milliseconds before she crumbles into your arms.

"What's wrong?" you ask, completely thrown off. You think you have an idea what it's about, because all of Santana's drama usually revolves around one person.

After a few seconds of sniffling in the open doorway of the apartment, she pulls back and brings you inside. Once you're both seat on the couch, she forces a smile, "What are you doing here?"

"I'm moving here," you add. You really want to know how Brittany managed to reduce Santana to tears, "What happened with you and Brit?"

She completely ignores your question, "You're moving here? Like New York or into this apartment?"

"New York," you let out a smile and gently stroke the tan skin on her forearm, "What I brought with me is already at Rachel's apartment."

"Two weeks?"

You nod, "Two weeks."

She released a genuine smile and sunk into the back of the couch, "Awesome. I'm glad you're here." She looked at the TV that's off and finally looked back to you, "It's almost three. You need to start calling real estate firms because the sooner you have your job, the sooner I can go back to Lima with you to get your stuff and the sooner my mom will stop asking me when I'm going to see her."

You smile and know she's right, even if she does make it sound like it's about helping her. She always had a way of making things seem like they were about her when she was really helping someone else out.

After a few minutes of talking she finally picks up one of her textbooks and starts reading, practically forcing you to get on your job hunt.

You dig the cards out of your purse. You have a stack of them on the inside pocket of your purse where they've all sat since the day you got them. So you call the first realtor. You remind him who you are which doesn't take much. You apologize that you waited until the last minute to call him, as you pace the length of the living room behind the couch, but he assures you it's okay and that you have an interview spot first thing on Monday. You let out a sigh of relief and fall onto the couch. So you have an interview. Now you need more.

Because Santana looks so intent on her book and you've gotten over your initial fear of calling these firms, you decide to head back to your apartment. You smile when you tell her you're going to back your apartment and she smiles back for the same reason. She gives you a hug and tells you that she'll inform Brittany that you're here. You start to ask about what happened with Brittany and she catches you, shaking her head with sad eyes.

The more interviews the more chances you have of getting a job. Of the twenty cards you got five interviews, which you decide is amazingly good. You're going to have a very busy Monday. So you unpack your bags and lay down on your bed, staring at the ceiling, loving how this is going right now. You don't even realize that you've fallen asleep on your bed until you feel delicate fingers running through your hair and a gently whisper of a song, "Wake up sleepyhead."

You decide that waking up and seeing her first thing is perhaps the greatest thing ever. She's sitting on the bed next you, leaning forward so that the tips of her hair are tickling your collarbone.

She pats your leg, "It's almost midnight and I'm positive you haven't eaten dinner so, I made you a sandwich." She picks up a plate off the nightstand, "I hope you like it. It's my favorite."

You sit up and accept the sandwich, looking it over. "Avocado, mushrooms, and sprouts?" You don't actually care that to you it looks like someone ate a forest with all it's animals and threw up on two pieces of vegan bread. All that matters is that her favorite and you'll try it because she loves it and you love her so by default you love it.

"You're the best," you smile at her and if you weren't holding a sandwich you would hug her.

She grins widely and wrinkles her nose, "I know right?" She stands up and stretches her back, "However, I'm extremely tired so I need you to condense your day into half an hour so I know what's going on with you before I go to sleep."

She never ceases to surprise you with how thoughtful she is. You take a bite of the sandwich and find it surprisingly good. After looking at it for a few seconds and then swallow. You hold up the sandwich and nod to her, "This is great."

"I know," she chuckles and moves around the room looking at the small personal touches you've added, "So your day?" She hops back onto the bed and sits outrageously close to you.

"I can do it in less than half an hour," you pick up your arm because you know she wants to lean on you. You rest your free arm around her shoulders as she rests her chin on your shoulder and slides her arms around your waist, "I got five interviews on Monday. Then I apparently fell asleep in the couch. That was my day. How was your show?"

She ignores your question and squeezes you, "You got interviews? That's awesome Quinn! You'll get a job and we'll be roommates forever!" She pops off of the couch and runs toward the kitchen, "We need to toast."

You take another bite of the sandwich and smile at the thought of being her roommate forever. Of course in your mind roommates means sleeping in the same bed, having amazingly hot sex every night and falling asleep to her whispering how much she loves you.

Your fantasy shatters when she sits down next to you and offers you a glass of wine. She taps hers against your own. "To New York."

"To New York." You decide that you need to caveat that by saying, "I don't have a job yet."

"Oh please," she shook her head, "You are Quinn Fabray. You're brilliant and beautiful and you can do anything. That includes finding a job in the best city ever now toast with me...and do it right. Smile and promise that you'll be my best friend forever."

"Forever and ever." you toast and clink your glasses together.


	7. Chapter 7

You pour two cups of coffee because you're just used to it. It's out of habit and it makes you sad because you realize that you're starting your life all over again.

You sigh heavily and take the coffee to the table and sit down with it, placing the extra one in the front of the chair across from you. You watch it for a moment, trying to map out the next week. Tomorrow is Saturday so you and Rachel are moving tomorrow. Then Sunday you'll probably help her unpack. Monday is your interviews. Hopefully one of them will take and you'll have a job by next week. You're sure it'll help you in the interview process that you're already in the middle of selling a high-end apartment that a Broadway star lived in. You've already spread the word of the apartment on the internet and the response has been promising. You have to decide which one of the potential buyers is serious and which ones just want to see the apartment for fun.

"Is that for me?" you didn't hear her walk up, but she's sleepily standing at the entrance of the kitchen, gesturing to the extra coffee on the table.

You nod even though you weren't really thinking of her as you poured, "Yes."

She stays in the doorway and places a hand on the frame, leaning on it, "You figured out how to use the monstrosity of a coffee machine?"

"You don't know how to use it?" You smile as she rubs her eyes and takes a deep breath.

She shrugs and started to make her way to the table, "I tried once. It didn't go well so I go down the street and get coffee every morning."

That sort of expenditure blows your mind. Coffee at a shop in New York is not cheap. However your roommate is a Broadway star and you're proud that she has that kind of money. You however, have no income as of right now so coffee in the kitchen every morning is what is going to happen.

She sits down in the chair and eyes the coffee before bringing it to her lips, pausing to glance at you.

You smile at the suspicion in her eyes, "It's not poisoned. I promise."

She sips it and smiled, "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to imply-"

"Don't worry out it," you add. You are a little hurt that the high school Rachel comes out and distrusts you for a moment, "If I didn't watch myself make it, I'd be cautious too."

"So," she leans back in her chair and runs a hand through her messy morning hair, "How so you like living in the greatest city in the world?"

"It's been all of twenty-four hours, but I love it. Just going for a walk is exciting. Although it's very expensive," you offhandedly mention.

"Tell me about it," she smiles and rests her chin on her palm,

"That reminds me. I've gotten a lot of response on this apartment. It shouldn't be long before we get it sold." You add, picking up your phone and starting a task list.

"Oh there's no hurry." She draws her knees to her chest and continues to sip her coffee. You're taken by the sight of her mussed hair and her sleepy eyes. Even in sweats and a t-shirt, to you she's still irresistible.

You shake yourself out of some not so innocent thoughts and take a deep breath, getting back on track. If you're going to live together you're going to have to start seeing her as your best friend and roommate and not the object of your decade old unrequited love, "I need to get it sold so I can get an actual job Monday."

"Well I think I heard one of my cast mates talk about moving. I'll get him your name." She taps her fingers on the table, "Oh and your commission for the new apartment will be here soon."

"Commission? All I did was follow you around." You frown.

"You saved me from horrible plumbing, fake granite and when I told everyone you were my real estate agent they knocked off thousands of dollars. That is commission worthy." She states with a cute smile and balances her coffee on one of her knees for a beat before putting it on the table.

"No Rachel-"

"I won't hear any of it!" She dramatically stands and puts her hands over her ears. "You'll have it tomorrow." She hums to herself until she's sure you won't say anything. Then she smiles and picks up her coffee. "I'm glad you see it my way."

You grin and ask, "Is there any other way?"

Her eyes light up, "Someone finally gets it!" She laughs all the way to her bedroom.

You smile and shake your head. It's hard to believe your luck. You come to New York just to see her; to scratch the itch that's always been there and you end up moving in with her. She's grown up enough to mellow slightly, but her personality still fills up the room. She's still the girl you remember. The one you fell for.

When you hear her shower start, you stand from the table. You start riffling through the cabinets for something to make for breakfast. Fortunately she has some organic, vegan frozen waffles that you promptly put in the toaster. You take out your phone and start making a grocery list because it's apparent that this girl hasn't eaten at home in a long time. After the move tomorrow, you need to get to grocery shopping so you don't starve to death. You hope it's not hard to adapt to a vegan lifestyle.

As you wait for them to pop up, you hear Rachel start to sing. You chuckle quietly. You should have guessed that she was a shower singer. You found out last night when you got up to get some water that she's a sleep singer too.

She continues to sing while you start looking around for syrup or something equally unhealthy to put on those ridiculously healthy waffles. Just as you find some, you recognize the song she's singing. Your hand stops mid-reach for the syrup because this song wraps it's words around your heart like a death grip.

That ridiculous Avril Lavigne song was the one that made you fall for her. Every time you hear it your insides implode and you have to fight off the urge to cry. Now she's singing it and you're not ready for how fast the tears come. Usually you'd love that you can hear her singing in the shower, but right now is not the time for your fragile emotions to shatter.

_Keep holdin' on_

_Cause you know we'll make it through_

_There's nothing you can say_

_Nothing you can do_

_There's no other way when it comes to the truth_

_Keep holdin' on_

_Cause you know we'll make it through_

_We'll make it through_

The shower shutting off pulls you out of your memory. You quickly wipe off your face and snatch the syrup from the pantry. You pull out the waffles that you just made and throw two more in the toaster. You set the table for two and pour some orange juice for both of you.

She steps back out with an empty coffee cup in her hand. She her hair is still damp and is hanging limply over her shoulders. You watch her face as she surveys the table. When her eyes move to you, you let out a hopeful smile.

When her face breaks out in a smile, you drop your shoulders. She walks over to you and of course, hugs your waist. "You don't have to make breakfast Quinn."

"I know," you answer, "But sometimes it's nice to eat at home, which you apparently don't do a lot of."

"I'm not so much for cooking," Rachel pulls away and pulls you by your hand to the table. You both sit down, but this time instead of across from each other, she sits you at the head of the table and she sits perpendicular to you. She moves her plate and glass in front of herself and happily eyes the food, "I forgot about these."

You chuckle because you totally believe it. "When do we start moving?"

"We do not start moving Miss Fabray," she cuts up her waffle before drowning it in syrup, "The movers will be here at noon and my assistant will be directing the move. I don't have to be at the theatre until four so we are going to go do something fun."

"Like?" you prompt, wanting to know what to dress for. You're grateful that you don't actually have to move anything. After doing the manual labor of moving Finn's mom's old furniture into your house and then moving it out three weeks later when you couldn't stand to look at it anymore was enough for you. You could totally get used to this rooming with a celebrity thing.

After the pedicure (no manicure because Rachel's character in the play can't have painted toenails), you both get into a cab. After you drop her off, you take the cab to the new apartment to make sure all the furniture got to the new place in the same condition it left in. Rachel made you promise to check to make sure her present to herself was in the third bedroom. She didn't tell you what the present was but she assured you that you'd know what it was when you saw it. In your mind, you see a life-sized Liza Minnelli mannequin.

You use your key to open the front door and step into the apartment. You smile because this place just feels like home. Like you're supposed to be here.

You place your purse on the small table next to the door move through the apartment. Rachel's assistant must have a good eye for design because everything looks like it was put there by an interior designer.

You remember that you were supposed to check on Rachel's present so you slowly go through the apartment looking through the rooms. You find Rachel's bedroom first. It's set up almost exactly like it was at the old apartment, but room and the windows are bigger. You look over at the balcony that extends from the sliding door by the windows.

The size of her room gets you excited to see your room. When you were helping her look at apartments you didn't consider that you might live there so you were just looking at the quality of the materials used to make it and not where you might stay.

Your legs at itching to run because you haven't been this excited for a while. You manage to control yourself until you get to the bedroom on the other side of the apartment. You look around your bedroom as you move to the bed and sit down. All the furniture is the same deep, dark wood that Rachel's is and you find that all the little things you brought with you are set up all around the room. This room couldn't be more perfect. There's a TV on the dresser that you don't remember ever seeing at the old apartment. You look to the side and find an adjoining bathroom with a full bathtub in it, which excites you to no end.

You then decide to go see what Rachel meant by present. The third bedroom is down the hall from yours so it doesn't take you long to find Rachel's present. The third bedroom is lined with bookcases that are filled with books of all kinds, but Rachel's present to herself is sitting in the corner of the room. The shiny black of the wood and the ivory white of the keys is stunning. You sit down on the bench and lightly run your finger over the keys of this gorgeous baby grand. You can't help, but feel that this is a present to you too because you've always, always loved when she plays. In high school, you'd come up with any excuse to watch her and one time even did some slightly illegal things to keep Brad from coming when you were supposed to practice a solo so you'd have to have Rachel play for you.

From your seat you can hear the front door open. You slowly rise and make your way to the door, hoping that it's Rachel.

Of course it's not. There's a young man, you've never seen before walking in the doorway with a dry cleaning bag over his shoulder. He drops some keys on the table and closes the door. When he looks up and see you, he looks startled, but eventually smiles, "Quinn?"

"Have we met?" you ask. This cannot be another of Rachel's boyfriends. You've always thought she was hot and all but this is ridiculous.

"No," he set the dry cleaning over the couch, "I'm her assistant, Jake." He extends his hand to you.

You slowly shake it and look him over. He doesn't look anything like you imagined her assistant would look like. Mostly because you assumed her assistant was a girl. Also not as tall and built as the guy in front of you. You feel bad for assuming that every guy that Rachel knows in her boyfriend. You know its just jealousy.

"It's awesome to finally meet you. Rachel hasn't stopped talking about you since you left earlier this week," he picks up the dry cleaning again and makes his way to her bedroom. When he comes back he walks into the kitchen and you follow him.

You're still a little confused so you decide that you need to clarify, "You did all this?" You gesture to the living room.

He seems to know what you're talking about and laughs, "I spend a lot of time waiting for Rachel or her stuff. I read whatever is around and have picked up a few things about flow and feng shui and all that stuff." He checks all the cabinets.

"If you're looking for food, you're out of luck," you smile at him, liking him already, "The woman doesn't keep food."

"I know," he laughs, "I've been trying to get her to keep some things here, but she just forgets about it and it all goes bad." He closes the refrigerator and turns to you, "If you'll give me a list of stuff you want from the grocery store I'll get if for you while I pick up her stuff."

You think about it for a moment. "You're familiar with this whole vegan thing right?"

He leans on the counter and puts his hands in the pockets of his jeans, "Very."

"I'll go with you and you can educate me," you pick up your purse, "I'm going to make dinner tonight and I think after the frozen waffles we had for breakfast, I'm all out of idea."

He runs his hand through his shaggy brown hair and nods, "Awesome. I've never had company grocery shopping. I usually listen to music and go as fast as I can."

A few minutes later, you're both walking behind the basket that you're pushing and looking through all the items on the shelves. He's explaining the little intricacies of a vegan diet and adds that you'd be surprised how many things use animal products.

"Eggs are a definite no," he states as you walk past them.

Even if it wasn't a non-vegan thing, you're weird about eggs being around Rachel. You blame Jesse St. James for that and you smile that you're subconsciously trying to keep all eggs away from Rachel even if they're not being thrown at her.

"Coffee," you state when you see it, "We definitely need coffee." Rachel only had a tiny bag of novelty coffee that you drink this morning. She seemed to like it, but you are more of a pure organic Columbian girl.

"Did you teach her how to use to coffee maker or did you do it?" Jake asks, watching you pick out the coffee that you want.

You chuckle and toss the coffee into the basket, "I made it."

"Figures," he looks at the list on the phone, "She'll never learn how to use it." He picks up a box of crackers, reading the ingredients before placing them in the basket.

As you both make your way through the store, he keeps informing you on Rachel's likes and dislikes in her food as well as things that are an absolute no-no's to things that you could get away with (generic brands) as long as Rachel doesn't see the box.

"You seem like a great assistant," you offer as you both lug the purchases to his car, "Where did she find you? Do they have personal assistant agencies?"

He chuckles and opens the trunk for you, "I don't know if they do. I was just at the gym one day and she walked up to me. She looked me right in the eyes and asked me who she was." He smiles, making sure your hands are out of the way when he closes the trunk of the car, "Of course I had no idea who she was and told her that she was probably looking for someone else. Then she smiled and told me that she wanted to hire me." He walks with you to the passenger door and opens it for you.

You smile up at him, "Thanks." After he closes the door and gets in on his side you add, "That sounds just like Rachel."

"She's definitely something else," he laughs and pulls into traffic.

You look over at the undoubtedly handsome, funny, and smart guy driving your around. You narrow your eyes and try to make yourself feel something. Maybe you do. It's a little tingle in the back of your stomach. You like his smile and how he opened your door for you. You also like how he takes care of Rachel.

You let out a sigh and look out the window. Somehow the feelings you're trying to have for this guy are about Rachel. When he asks if you're okay, you just nod and add, "Tell me about this David guy."

"Rachel's David?" he asks, but doesn't wait for an answer, "Well, he's in that show with her. I'm not like, much of a Broadway guy but apparently he's good actor. He and Rachel go out like twice a week to dinner or a movie or something like that. I've met him a few times. He's kind of a dick when it comes to the help."

"Oh yeah?" you ask, completely surprised that Rachel would put up with that sort of behavior.

"But Rachel yelled at him for it," Jake adds and squeezes his small car into a spot next to your apartment. You smile, that's your Rachel.

On the way into the apartment, Jake checks the mail. You tell him that he doesn't have to worry about that anymore. You'll pick it up.

As you both share the duties of putting up the groceries, your phone rings. You excuse yourself to answer it. You're surprised by a potential buyer for Rachel's old apartment. The woman, who has no trace of emotion in her voice, tells you that her client likes the location and the size and the pictures you posted. They want to look at it as soon as possible.

"I can meet you there right now if you want," you offer.

The woman talks to someone away from the phone and replies; "We'll meet you in an hour."

"Great," you beam and hang up. Your mouth hangs open in disbelief. Someone already wanted to look at the apartment and you just put up the listing. This is ridiculous. It's ludicrous. If the real estate market is like this in New York City, you're going to love the pace. It goes a mile a minute.

When you walk back into the kitchen, you find Jake typing furiously away on his phone. He looks up at you with a smile, "You look really happy."

"I'm about to go show someone the old apartment," you explain, but can't keep the absolute elation out of your voice. Even if you take half of your normal commission, which you are going to do because this is Rachel, you are still going to make more money on this one sale then you would have selling ten houses in Lima.

You wish Rachel were here so you could hug her, but you settle for Jake. He carefully puts his strong arms around you and gives you a gentle squeeze. "That's awesome."

You pull away from him, "I have to go find something to wear." You grin and trot off to your room. Once dressed in a very professional looking suit you grab your purse. Jake is standing in the middle of the living room with his hands on his hips.

You pause at the door, "What's wrong?"

"Rachel wants to have a housewarming party tonight," he waves his phone in the air, "She just texted me from backstage in the middle of her play."

You can't help, but laugh, "So Rachel."

"Anyway," he goes on, "I have to find a way to rearrange the living room so that there's room for people."

"It's a last minute party," you shrug, digging your phone out of your purse, "How many people can there be?"

"It's a Rachel Berry party," he picks up the coffee table and moves it across the room, "It's going to be huge and you two will have more toasters than you know what to do with."

You slowly nod. It's so hard for you to picture Rachel as being famous, but she is and you better get used to it.

Showing the apartment goes off without a hitch. The monotone woman has a monotone wardrobe and her client looked entirely into the house. He kept walking to the window and looking down or down the street where a park was situated.

You got the text invite to the party that started ten minutes ago, so you swung by a liquor store and picked up a few bottles of not expensive, but not cheap champagne. You had some great news for Rachel and even better news for your bank account. You were definitely staying in New York longer than two weeks. Your commission will keep you living here for at least a year.

When you get to your apartment there's a burly man dressed in black with his arms crossed. "Um, hi?"

"You on the list?" he was apparently unversed in the pleasantries of 'hi' and 'how are you'.

"List?" you ask, shifting the bottles in your arms, "I live here?"

"Name?"

You frown, "Quinn Fabray."

He consults a folded up piece of paper and nods, stepping aside. You open the door with a quirked eyebrow and find why you need a bouncer at your apartment door. There are more people in your apartment than you ever really imagined could fit. You wade through the sea of people into the kitchen and put the champagne in the freezer. Then you grab one of the expensive looking finger foods that are set out in the kitchen before making your way to the living room. When you spot the gift table you let out a smile. You can smell all the frozen waffles all those toasters can make now.

The wind is knocked out of you when someone wraps their arms around your waist. The tight squeeze and the height of the arms let you know exactly who it is.

"What are you doing here Brit?" You ask, leaning back into her.

She rests her chin on your shoulder, "I'm working. My boss got invited and it turned into a work thing." Her sigh tickles your ear. You rest your hands on her arms.

"Is Santana here?" you ask.

You feel her body lean on yours a little more. "No. She's mad at me."

You swallow hard and turn around. Her blue eyes are sad and your heart breaks. "C'mon B."

"I-I have to work," she stutters out, her eyes on the ground.

"No Brit," you shake your head. You sympathize with Brittany and her drive to be a great dancer/choreographer, but Santana was the one that was sobbing in your arms. Santana is the one that's probably at their apartment right now trying to keep her tears off of her Oncology book. "You need to come with me." Your voice is firm and the taller girl slowly nods.

You pull her into your bedroom and close the door against the noise. You had some presence of mind to grab a tray of food and a bottle of champagne, which is great because you're starving.

When you get into your room, you find that the coffee table is stashed in here along with some of the smaller furniture and the armchair from the living room. You both crawl onto the bed and put the tray between you.

"Are you mad at me too?" Brittany asks when she's laying among a stack of pillows against the headboard.

You let out a sigh because her voice is so small and weak. "No B, I just…I understand what you're doing and I understand why Santana is upset. I just don't…You guys are so in love….I just don't want you to see you throw that away. Maybe she could be more understanding and you could work a little less?"

Brittany eyes you before picking up a finger sandwich. "I want to. I do. I just…If I stop working I might not be as good as her you know?"

You frown and shake your head. No you don't understand.

She looks at the sandwich in her hand. "I can't dance forever. Someday I won't be able to dance and what will I be? She'll be a doctor and I'll be…nothing." The tears in her eyes mirror the ones in your own. She sniffles and puts the sandwich back, "I need to make something-I need to be something before I can't anymore."

"Brittany, you can always be something," you take her hand, "You'll always be someone."

"Not like this," she sighs, "Dancing is…"

"You're not dancing Brittany," you hold her eyes, "You're so much more than that. You don't have to dance forever. You don't even have to dance now."

She slowly nods and seems to understand you, but remains skeptical. You think you've said all you can say so you turn the TV on and pop open the champagne.

After a few minutes and a few passes of the champagne bottle, you turn to Brittany, "I sold Rachel's old apartment."

"Really?" Brittany immediately smiles and looks at you.

You nod and take another sip of champagne, "She's here right? She not like ditching her own house warming party."

"It's your party too and you're in your room," Brittany pokes your shoulder and offers you a sandwich.

You take it and nod, "The party wasn't my idea." You take a bite of your sandwich.

Your bedroom door opens and Jake steps in. When he see your and Brittany he freezes. "Oh I'm sorry. I was just…running away."

You laugh and wave him in, "C'mon. We're celebrating."

"You sold it?" he asks and closes the door behind him. When you nod he offers a congratulations and gives you a celebratory hug before disappearing into the bathroom because the one outside is continuously occupied.

"Uh Q?"

You turn to Brittany and take another swig from the champagne bottle, "Hmm?"

"What's up with you and him?" she gestures to the bathroom door.

A raised eyebrow is your initial response. "Nothing's going on."

"He likes you," she smiles and looks back at the TV.

"Really?" you think that you sort of always knew that, but your failed attempts at feelings for him sort of squashed the idea. When she nods, you shake your head, "It doesn't matter. I don't feel that way and even if I did, my divorce isn't even final yet."

She takes a bite of her sandwich and adds, her eyes on the TV, "And you're in love with Rachel."

You feel your heart stop. You look at Brittany in complete disbelief as she continues to eat and drink while watching the TV like she hadn't just stated your deepest secret like it was nothing.


	8. Chapter 8

Jake joins you and Brittany on the bed. You're all laying out watching a TV movie. You're not really paying attention as much as internally panicking that someone knows your secret. You didn't get a chance to tell Brittany that she can't tell anyone before Jake walked back in.

You kept looking at her, trying to catch her eyes, but her eyes were glued to the TV. You pull a pillow over your face and take a deep breath. You feel safe under the pillow so you keep it there for a few moments that is until the door opens again.

"What are you doing?" Rachel's eyes lock onto yours that are peaking out from under the pillow, "The party is out here…" Her eyes flicker away from yours, "Although your party looks more fun than this one and a lot more…racy."

You take the pillow off of your head to try to figure out what she's talking about. You finally realize that your head is on the bed next to Jake's waist and Brittany is spooned behind you. When you look behind you the blue eyes meet yours and you vigorously shake your head. Recognition crosses Brittany's face and she nods.

When you turn back to Rachel, she's eyeing you suspiciously. You do your best to look innocent. Rachel turns her attention to Jake, "You can go home. I'm sure we can take care of it from here."

"You sure?" he asks, handing you the champagne and standing up.

She nods with a smile, "Have fun."

He hugs her and walks out of your room with a smile back to you. You smile back. As he walks out your eyes follow him until he walks behind Rachel. You see that she's carefully watching you and you immediately look away. You don't know why you feel guilty, you just do.

Rachel closes your door and walks to the bed, taking his place. She runs her fingers through your hair before gathering you up in her arms. "I appreciate you keeping my assistant warm for me."

You chuckle against her neck, completely at ease with her now. You can feel her reach behind you and pull Brittany closer so that you've become a very warm Quinn sandwich.

"Are you having fun Brittany?" Rachel asks, stroking your forearm as she pulled it around her waist.

"Yeah," Brittany quietly says into your hair, "But I should probably go home and talk to Santana."

"Are you sure?" Rachel asks and you close your eyes feeling her body vibrate with the words. You can't stop your thumb from gently stroking her hip through her dress. "You're very welcome to stay here. Especially if you've helped with this." She picks up the champagne bottle that's almost empty. You can't stop a smile as she polishes it off.

"I'm fine," Brittany squeezes you before disappearing all together, "Thanks Q. You're the best."

"You are too," you reply and after she says goodbye to Rachel she leaves.

Rachel rubs your back, "You don't have to come out to the party, but I'm going to. If someone moves my autographed picture of Barbra, I'll lose it."

You chuckle and roll off of her onto your back. "I'll be out in a minute. I just need to change."

"Why are you all business-y anyway?" she gestures to your clothes.

You grin because you completely forgot about the reason for the suit and the champagne. "I did something really awesome today."

"You got a job?" you love how excited she is and how she leans forward so she can make sure to catch everything you say.

"Even better," you wiggle a little on the bed in excitement, "I sold your apartment."

Her eyes light up, "You did?" When you nod she jumps on you in a full body hug. You're used to her affection by now, but in this compromising position and your current, semi-drunken state you contemplate doing things to her that make you blush.

She sits up and pouts. "You didn't save any champagne for me. I want to celebrate with you."

You can't help, but bite your lip because she's straddling your hips and you are beyond turned on right now. Your hands are on her thighs, but if she noticed, she doesn't care. "There's another bottle in the freezer."

"We can uncork it when everyone leaves," she hugs you one last time before crawling off of you. "Oh and we can get in our pajamas and watch Funny Girl until we fall asleep or you make me change it because I'm singing along too loud." She brushes some hair out of your face with a sweet smile, "I'm so glad you're here."

"I'm glad you let me stay here," you look back into her eyes and know at that moment you've never and never again will be in love like this.

"I'll come find you when everyone leaves," Rachel winks at you, "Which will probably be soon. Then we can open all of our presents." With that she disappears.

You change into your pajamas, which are strategically picked out. They're conservative enough to not be over-exposing, but skimpy enough to get maximum skin on skin contact when Rachel wants to cuddle.

When you look at yourself in the mirror, you let out a deep sigh. She deserves to know. You feel like a creeper for taking advantage of her affectionate nature. All you want to do it be around her and touch her.

You pick up your phone and call the one person who you can talk to about this problem.

"Hey Q," Brittany answers happily.

"Hey, are you busy?" you ask, hoping that you didn't just interrupt some of her and Santana's rare moments alone.

"Mmm, no," the other blonde replies, "I'm getting Santana's favorite coffee before I go home."

"Aww," you can't help, but coo.

She giggles into the phone, "Are you okay Q?" Her change of tone throws you off. She goes from giddy to sympathetic in a matter of milliseconds, "I'm sorry I said that you were in love with Rachel out loud."

"No, it's okay," you sigh and sink onto the coffee table, "I just…I feel bad."

"Why?"

"Because she hugs me and likes to cuddle all the time and…she doesn't know how it makes me feel," you run your hand over your face and try to shake the mental image of Rachel straddling you out of your brain.

"Well she likes it right? Or she wouldn't do it," Brittany states and pauses. You hear a man say 'thank you' before Brittany speaks again, "She doesn't have to know that you like it more than she does. Like when I go down on Santana. I'm pretty sure I like it more than she does, even though she likes it _a lot_. She kinda tastes like-"

"Oh my god Britt," you squeal, not because you're completely grossed out, but because you've never wondered what Rachel tasted like, but now you do.

"Oh yeah. That's one of those inappropriate things that Santana says I need to stop talking about to other people," Brittany adds, "Anyway, you tell her or you don't. She likes hugging me and San and her dads are totally gay so I don't think that she'd stop."

"But you and Santana aren't in love with _her_ ," you sigh. Your door handle jiggling makes you start to panic so you add, "Please don't tell anyone B. I gotta go."

Rachel opens your door with a bottle of champagne in one hand and a couple presents in her other arm. Behind her you can see that your apartment is empty.

"How did you get everyone to leave?" you ask, trying to avoid looking at her legs that are exposed under a short silky nightgown.

She grins and drops a present on your lap, "That's not important." She moves to the TV and frowns, "You don't have a DVD player."

"I didn't even know I had a TV until a couple hours ago," you focus on the present in your lap, wondering what's in it.

She leaves your room and returns with some more presents, "It's like Chanukah." She hops onto the bed next to you and takes a sip from the champagne bottle. After flipping through the channels for a minute, she stops it on a black and white movie that's already halfway over.

You both drink champagne and open presents until you've opened every toaster oven and candle set in Manhattan. She takes a long drink of the champagne and hands it back to you. When you take a drink, you can taste her lip-gloss on the glass rim. A moan escapes your lips before you can stop yourself.

Rachel looks up at you with a quirked eyebrow, pausing her examination of a gift card you both received. "Are you okay?"

You fall back onto the bed and pull the covers over your head, "I'm super drunk."

"We've just been drinking champagne lightweight," she teases you and pokes you in the stomach through the blanket.

Being drunk around Rachel is a dangerous thing as you've learned so you keep the blanket around your neck and try to make yourself sleepy.

She lays down next to you and you can feel her looking at you. "Quinn Fabray."

You open your eyes and find that her face is inches from yours. There's a sweet smile on her lips and that guilty feeling consumes you. "Hmm?" you prompt wanting her to get it over with so you can close your eyes again.

"You're a lightweight," she giggles and shimmies under the covers next to you. You're eyes flutter shut when her hand seeks out yours in the mess of blankets, "I'm taking you to breakfast in the morning. Mimosas and bagels. Your official induction into the world of Manhattanites."

You can't help, but smile.

The next day, you hang out with Rachel. She drags you all around the island and into Brooklyn and back before the day is done. When you get back your whole apartment is completely cleaned and back to the way it was when you first moved in. The mess of people that work for Rachel still freak you out a little.

Rachel sent you to bed early because you had five interviews the next day. That's probably a good thing because you wake up at five because of nerves. You manage to occupy yourself with doing your hair for an hour and then panicking over what to wear. Even though you had one sale already you still feel like this is your first job interview ever.

But by lunchtime you feel pretty good about them. You met some of your competition and you used the one great thing that Sue Sylvester taught you. Raw intimidation.

You're so glad to be home that you drop your purse on the ground by the door and fall onto the couch. You wonder where Rachel is so you call her. She answers happily and tells you that she's on her way to an interview with a reporter from a small independent Broadway review magazine. She says she'll be home in an hour and then you two can go to lunch or something. You tell her not to rush and remind her that you're proud of her. She sounds a little choked up at the sentiment, but thanks you multiple times for reminding her of that.

You make another quick call and survey the ingredients in the kitchen with the phone to your ear.

"Hello?"

"Hey Jake," you smile, "I was wondering if you had any totally awesome vegan recipes to go along with all your grocery shopping skills."

He laughs, "Sure. Are you at your apartment?"

"Yeah," you answer, leaning back on the counter, "I was about to call over my friend because she's kinda lonely and I want to cook her and Rachel an awesome lunch that Santana can't tell is vegan, but Rachel can actually eat."

"Well I will be there in ten minutes and we can brainstorm," he assures you, "See ya."

"Yeah," you nod and hang up the phone.

When you call Santana, she quickly agrees to come over and eat lunch with you. She seems desperate to get out of her apartment and you can't say you blame her. You've been home alone for a grand total of fifteen minutes and you're already calling over every person you know within a hundred mile radius.

Jake arrives about the same time that Santana does. He's carrying a bottle of wine and she's carrying a heavy looking backpack and donning scrubs.

"Are you playing pretend today?" you ask her with a playful smile.

She rolls her eyes, "No. My pathology class is taking a field trip this afternoon and this is required attire." She hops up on the counter to watch you and Jake cook while she's looking at her book and practicing some sort of surgical skill in the air. She mumbles something about cadavers before you politely ask her to not discuss anything medical before, during, or immediately after lunch.

Once the cellophane noodles are rolled out, you start chopping vegetables while Jake prepares the tofu. You watch over his shoulder so you can do this next time without any help.

You offer Santana a slice of carrot and she takes it, "Thanks for talking to Britt last night. I didn't know she felt like that."

"No problem," you tentatively smile at her.

"Brittany belongs to you?" Jake looks over his shoulder at Santana, "I mean like-she's with you?"

She looks up from her book and nods, "Yeah."

"I met her last night," he smiles and turns back to the stove, "She's really nice."

"Uh, thanks?" Santana looks to you with raised eyebrows. You shrug. You don't know Jake well enough to know if he is into Brittany or anything. You hope not. For his sake.

She lowers her voice so that you're the only one that can hear her, "Of course I made the mistake of telling her that as soon as I get out of med school that she doesn't actually have to do anything."

"Oh San," you sigh, "You should know better."

"I know, I know," she huffs, "I'm an idiot."

You push some of your hair out of her eyes and shake your head, "You're not stupid. You're just still…you."

"What does that supposed to mean?" she rolls her eyes, but you know there's no bite to her bark anymore…at least not toward you.

"You still talk before you think," you hand her another carrot and she takes it.

"Whatever," she looks down at the book in her lap and reads a little before asking, "How'd the interviews go?"

"They went well. Most of them said they'd let me know by Wednesday," you grin, "Coach Sylvester would have been proud."

"Are you kidding?" Santana chuckles, "She's hella proud of you anyway. Brittany's sister says that she's still talking about the Unholy Trinity."

"We're legends," you laugh. You look over at Jake and find him mixing some kind of sauce. You walk over to him, "Oh, what's that?"

"Peanut sauce. Staple of Asian vegan cooking," he explains with a gentle smile, "Rachel loves it." He hands you a spoon to taste it with. It's spicier than you expect, but still amazing. You have got to learn how to make that.

After about half an hour the front door opens. Rachel immediately announces her arrival by calling, "Honey I'm home!"

You don't answer because she's already making her way to the kitchen. You're elated to see her until you see that she brought someone with her.

"Hey guys," Rachel bounces into the kitchen and peers over your shoulder, "That looks amazing. What are you making?" She hugs you from behind before moving over to refrigerator to get some water.

"Tofu spring rolls," Jake answers for you because a green-eyed monster has crawled its way up your spine and into your brain rendering you speechless.

David walks up to Santana and says hi. He asks her how school is going and seems genuinely interested when she tells him about the surgery she watched last week.

You sigh. He is a nice guy. Even if he's mean to the help (which you haven't actually seen), he's handsome and he's charming and you want nothing more than to hit him over the head with the frying pan.

Rachel moves to his side and he rests his arm around her shoulder and quickly kisses her.

"So Quinn, he directs his attention to you and focus really hard on rolling the spring rolls so you don't want to hit him for just kissing her, "I heard you sold Rachel's old apartment and your stay in New York is about to become permanent."

"Hopefully," you force a smile when you feel Rachel looking at you.

"We should go out tonight to celebrate," he suggested, "After the show, we could go do something fun."

You hate him more for being so nice, which of course makes no sense, but you don't care. He just kissed Rachel right in front of you and you want to maim him in his pretty face. Since Rachel is standing right there, watching you, your reply isn't out of your HBIC Retorts by Cheerio Captain Quinn Fabray. You shrug with an apologetic smile, "Rain check? I've had a long day already and was kinda hoping to mope around here until I hear from the agencies I interviewed with."

"Of course," he nods. He seems a little put off, but you don't care. You actually want him to say something mean to you so you have a reason to hit him.

Rachel moves from his side and appears at yours. Her soft hand is on the small of your back and her eyes look worried. She quietly asks, "Are you okay?"

Her concern elicits a genuine smile and you nod, "I'm really just tired. I woke up at five this morning because I was nervous."

"You can go lay down now," she offers, "I'll finish lunch."

You shake your head, "No, I need to get used to this vegan thing."

"You're a natural," Jake jokes from across the kitchen where he presents some perfectly rolled spring rolls.

You look down at yours. They're not as good as his, but it doesn't look like a ball of mush, which you consider a great accomplishment.

Once you're all seated at the dining room table, lunch goes by easily. David and Santana pretty much keep everyone entertained with stories of work or school and you try not to look at David directly because if he met your eyes, you may launch yourself across the table and beat him with a spring roll. You absolutely hate being the crazy, irrational, jealous person, but when he touches Rachel you want to cry or hit something…someone…well mostly just him.

After lunch, Santana had to bolt to get to her class, Rachel and David had a cast meeting to get to and David still had to run Rachel's errands so you're left alone. When everyone is gone, you change into sweat pants and a t-shirt before parking yourself in front of the living room TV. Halfway through the first episode of the medical drama of your choice, your phone buzzes.

You look at your phone and find that Rachel sent you a text. _How about I pick up some sorbet on the way home from the show? I can grab some movies if you want. Low-key roomie bonding night?_

How could you say no to that? You text back that that sounds awesome before laying down on the couch letting yourself get lost in the show, wondering if Santana's hair will look that good when she's in the operating room someday.

You spend the next two days in your pajamas watching daytime television and obsessively checking your phone. Today is the day when you know. Adding to your stress level today, you just received your divorce papers. They're still sitting in a manila envelope on the kitchen counter because you can't concentrate on what it says when you're waiting to know if you have a job or not.

Halfway through your daily dose of General Hospital, your phone rings.

When Rachel gets home, you peer at her from over the back of the couch. She sees your eyes and you playfully duck back down. She sets a paper bag down in the kitchen before jumping over the back of the couch and landing as softly on top of you as possible.

She sits on her knees next to you and ruffles your hair, "You're in a good mood."

"So are you," you comment. Her face is blissfully free of any makeup because she's meticulous about getting rid of all the stage makeup after every show.

"I got a five minute standing ovation," she grins and leans back on the opposite end of the couch from you, "Why are you happy?"

"I got two job offers today," you can't stop a face splitting smile.

"Oh my god!" she launches herself on you again and hugs you so hard you my not be able to breathe soon. "This calls for something way better than sorbet!" She jumps off of the couch and returns with a very expensive looking bottle of champagne with a sold silver base and absolutely no English words on it. In her other hand she's carrying two champagne flutes.

"So you're too good to drink out of the bottle now?" you giggle as she struggles to uncork it. Once she's got it, she pours you both a generous amount.

"This is real celebrating," she smiles at you, but there's something sad behind it. You can't quite put your finger on it. "This means you can go get the rest of your things from Lima and make that bedroom really yours."

You slowly nod. You forgot about going to get the rest of your things from Lima. "I'll go on Thursday and drive back this weekend. I may have to leave Friday because Santana wants to come with me."

Rachel frowns, "I want to come too, but I have shows."

"I thought that's why you have an und-"

"Don't you ever say the 'U' word around me," she smirks, "That's like putting a hex on me."

You laugh because Rachel's adorable and you love her and the fact that she doesn't want anyone saying understudy around her. She laughs with you and leans into you. You put your arm around her like you usually do and she taps her flute to yours. "You're an amazing person Quinn Fabray."

"So you are Rachel Berry," you giggle with her before sipping the very expensive champagne that tastes like heaven in your mouth.

The next morning, you pick up your keys to make a run to Queens to pick up the paperwork to complete the sale of her apartment. "I'll be back later."

"Wait!" she yells and runs to you. She snatched the keys out of your hand. You feel a dull pain where the teeth of the keys scratched your palm, but you're more focused on her outburst at the moment.

"You can't take a cab," she says firmly, "Or a car or an automobile of any kind."

"Why not?" You're pretty much perplexed at this moment.

Her head tilts down slightly and you don't quite catch what she says.

"Huh?"

"Because I had a dream…about snakes…" She mumbled barely audibly. She glances up and sees your thoroughly confused face and goes on, "Every time I have a dream about snakes someone I know gets in a car accident. Last time my last assistant wrapped her car around a pole in Brooklyn. She's okay now, but that's not the point…"

A smile forms on your face and you want to hug her. She pouts and tucks your keys into her pocket. "I'm serious Quinn! It's true." This only causes you to smile wider and chuckle lightly with your hand over your mouth.

"You're making fun of me," she accuses you and stomps her foot. When you burst out laughing, she turns on her heel to storm off. You grab her arm and stop her overly dramatic exit. The combination of your pull on her arm and the momentum of her turning back around cause her to tumble into your body. She doesn't make a move to leave. In fact she leans against you so you do what come naturally and put your arms around her. You've never been one for physical affection before her and it doesn't surprise you when her arms snake around her waist. Suddenly you decide that if this is what you've been missing out on, you would have started hugging people more often a long time ago.

You wonder what she's thinking as you stand in this simple embrace. After a few minutes of silence you add, "I believe you, but I don't know the subway around here well enough to get to Queens without getting lost, mugged, and/or kidnapped."

She laughs against your shoulder and steps away, "I'll go with you."

"You don't have to," You tell her, although you're simply thrilled at the offer, "You have the day off and a late show tonight."

"Nonsense," she waves her hand at you again and starts to her bedroom, "Everyone needs a guide during their first foray into the subway. I'll just go change and we can get going."

It turns out that her going with you only sped up the selling process because monotone real estate agent is apparently a huge Broadway junkie and knows almost more than you do about Rachel.

On the way back, a creepy guy kept looking at you and Rachel. You slide your arms around Rachel's shoulders protectively. She doesn't seem to notice the guy, but she wraps her arms around your middle and smiles up at you.

When you look back up at the guy, he's smiling to himself and gets off at the next stop.

Your phone buzzes in your pocket as you ascend the stairs into fresh air. It's a text from Santana.

Please save me from myself Q. I'm about to cut my median cubital

"Santana said she needs to get away from her books before she studies herself to death. Do you mind if we meet her for lunch?"

She glances up at you and you notice little subtleties about her face that mean she doesn't mean the shrug that she lets out.

"You don't have to come," you add, trying to give her an out, "I'm sure you want to take a nap or something."

"I do want to," she explains slowly and evenly, watching her own footsteps on the sidewalk, "I still have a tiny amount of anxiety around Santana because of high school. I know it's unfounded now and that I've hung out with her, but there were always more than one person with us."

"She's totally-well not totally different, but she's mellowed out. Four years by herself in California gave her a lot of time to think," You pause and contemplate your best friend's changes and smile because you're proud of her. "Pardon the cliché, but she found herself there. She realized what she needed and what she wanted and found they were the same person."

"That's so sweet," she loops her arm through yours.

You pretend to gag, but you think it's sweet too. "I would have held out longer if I was Britt before giving Santana another chance. She might have gotten a couple more diamonds and could have gotten Santana to really grovel."

She pokes your ribs, "There's got to be a romantic in there somewhere Fabray."

You laugh and shake your head, "Nope. Not in here."

You text Santana back, that you'll meet her and tell her not to take a cab…just in case.

When you get there, Santana is already at the table, staring off into space. She looks more tired than she was the last time you saw her.

"God San, do you ever sleep?" is what you greet her with. You give her an affectionate rub of the shoulder, which is about the most you two are comfortable with in public.

"No, never," she shakes her head, dead serious, "I'm not sacrificing my Brittany time for sleep. Or my study time. Sleep is completely overrated anyway."

"You're going to die," You glance at Rachel to make sure she managed to sit down okay. Not that she's had any trouble before. It's just that…overprotective much?

"No," Santana rationally explains, "I'll just start hallucinating and lose all essential motor skills. No biggie."

"So I'm going to Lima at the end for the week," you add, "Wanna come?"

"Want to? No," she answers, "Have to? Definitely." After she yawns, she asks, "Can we leave Friday after my last class?"

"Sure," you nod, "I have to drive back though."

"That's fine. It'll give us an excuse to leave early," she adds, "I love my mom, but I can only take so much of 'Oh mija you look so pretty in white' or 'Brittany has amazing genes'. And telling her that marriage and children are not on the table right now, does not actually work. It's like she only hears what she wants."

"Parents do that," Rachel agrees, "My dads have been hinting that both of those thing."

You internally cringe. The reality that Rachel is going to get married and have kids with someone other than you, hurts worse than anything. You take a long drink of your water when Santana asks, "Why not? I mean your man candy seems like a good guy."

She shrugs with a weak smile, "We've only been dating for six months. We're both very career driven so if we find that we are compatible in…that way, it's going to take something huge in one or both of our careers to take any kind of huge step like that." She lets out a small sigh and looks out the window.

"So Santana, exactly why haven't you asked Brittany to marry you yet?" you ask with a wicked smile.

"Because," she immediately got defensive, "Marriage is…scary. And we're kind of just…getting used to being together again."

"It's been a year," you state. You know that Santana has always, always, always…always had commitment issues. However, you figure that because she's stayed with Brittany for this long, marriage wouldn't seem so hard.

"It's just…scary as shit okay?" Santana snapped, "She's pissed at me half the time. What happens when she gets trapped in that? What if I make her miserable?" She softens and drops her head on the table.

Rachel looks at you with wide eyes. You just let out a soft smile and lean forward. "San." When she looks up at you, you let out a smile, "You don't make her miserable. Sometimes you irritate her and sometimes she irritates you, but she loves you. She always has and I was there when you met Brittany. You can't tell me that you didn't love her the second you saw her for the first time."

"Just drop it okay?" Santana looks you dead in the eyes. She wasn't angry. She was scared. She turns to Rachel, "Control your roommate okay?"

You and Rachel both laugh. You're sure she's laughing at the joke, but you're laughing because if Rachel did try to get you to do something, you'd most likely end up doing it. You'd follow her off of a cliff.

"Quinn," she smiles at you with a faux authoritative tone. "Behave."

"Yes ma'am," you smirk.

After a while Santana tells you that she has to go study so you and Rachel head back to the apartment. You're excited because now this is your permanent residence. Your two weeks aren't even halfway over and you have a job and friends and a new life.


	9. Chapter 9

When you get back from Lima and start your job, it didn't take long for you to establish a routine. You wake up at six-thirty and start the coffee. After a shower and necessary grooming, you get the paper from the outside hallway. The first few times you said good morning to the neighbors they looked at you like you were crazy, but they've warmed up to you and now say it back. Of course since it's become a routine, you wake up at six-thirty even though you don't have to go into work today until after two. You love the flexible schedule of your profession, but on days like these you wish you had something to do.

Usually Rachel is out of her room by now in her gym clothes. She leaves to go to the gym at the same time you usually leave to go to work so most of the time you chat over coffee and a light breakfast.

However as you sit at the table sipping your coffee, you hear a noise coming from her bedroom. A vicious cough that makes you wince.

You slowly stand from the table, immediately concerned. Once at her closed door, you softly knock, "Rach are you okay?"

After a more muffled cough she calls back, "I think I'm dying."

You smile. She's never afraid of a hyperbole. You open the door and find her laying in her bed looking like a sad puppy staring back at you. You tease her, "You don't look like you're dying."

She frowns at you and burrows under the covers, disappearing in the mass of sheets, blankets, and pillows.

You lean on the doorframe, "Do you want some coffee or tea?"

"Tea," is her weak reply.

After getting the kettle settled on the stove, you walk back into her room. You carefully sit on her bed and tug on the blankets she's firmly holding over her head, "Rachel, I'm just trying to see if you're running a fever."

She pouts, but let's go of the blanket so you can pull it off. She groans, "Oh the sun."

"Your curtains are closed." You press your hand to her forehead. "Well maybe a little fever, but nothing bad."

"Nothing bad?" she squeals and dives back under the covers, "I have a show tonight!"

"Then let me take care of you," you pull at the blankets again.

She huffs and dramatically throws the covers off. After a brief chuckle you smile and explain, "I'm going to call Santana and then I'll get started on some soup for you okay?"

She just groans in an answer. You shake your head and make your way back to the kitchen. You get started on the miso soup and call Santana as you stir it.

"I'm not a doctor," Santana huffs when you ask her to come over.

You get down a tea bag and place it in Rachel's favorite mug, which you set out earlier, "I'll tell you what to say. Just look thoughtful and regurgitate the information." You pour the hot water over it and then replace the kettle.

"Can you not say regurgitate so early in the morning?" she mumbles in your ear.

You sigh. These people are not cooperative this early in the morning, "Please S?"

After a pause, she answers, "Is there coffee?"

"Of course."

"Then I'll be over in ten." She states and then the line goes dead.

You put almond milk and sugar in Rachel's tea and carefully carry it to her bedroom. You find her half open eyes watch you all the way to the bed. She does look to be in sad shape, but in the most adorable way you can think of.

She sits up and softly blows on the tea. You look around her room that is it's usual pre-maid mess. There are clothes everywhere and empty water glasses on her nightstand. You push off of the bed and start to pick up her dirty clothes, tossing them into the hamper.

"You don't have to do that," Rachel sets her tea on her nightstand and lies back down.

You pause to smile at her, "I know, but I'm going to because you gave your maid the week off for her birthday and when she gets back I don't want there to be a great wall of clothes surrounding your bed."

She watches you for a few seconds before taking another sip of her tea. Then you turn to the TV and DVD players and turn them on. You're not surprised to find the disc menu for Funny Girl already up. You press play and make your way back to the kitchen to finish the soup.

As you ladle some of the soup into a bowl there's a knock on the door. You find that Santana is in sweat pants, a t-shirt with a gray track jacket hanging open. She looks half-asleep.

"Good morning," you attempt with a hopeful smile.

"I haven't been to bed yet," she mumbles with her head tilted slightly.

You raise your eyebrows and brush some of her hair back into place, "Go tell Rachel that she just needs to stay in bed all day and she'll be fine. Then go lay down in my bed so I can make sure you at least get a couple of hours sleep."

"Yes mommy," she says but immediately her eyes shoot to you and she starts to apologize.

You shake your head and tell her it's okay. You talked to her a few times while you and Finn were trying to get pregnant she made a snarky remark almost identical to the one she just threw at you and you hung up on her, refusing to answer her calls for weeks. You're not as disappointed as you could be that you couldn't get pregnant with Finn now because if you had then you wouldn't be here. You'd still be with him and still in Lima, not living with Rachel and regularly seeing Santana (and some of the time, Brittany).

You place a hand on her back to guide her in before you close the door. You both pause in the kitchen while you pick up the soup and some crackers.

When you get into the bedroom, Rachel eyes you both suspiciously. Santana motions for Rachel to sit up which she does. Santana makes a show of feeling Rachel's forehead and then her lymph nodes. She pauses while feeling around Rachel's neck, taking her time, "Have you had your tonsils out?"

"Of course not." Rachel defiantly states.

"Hmm," Santana continued with taking Rachel's pulse and looking at her throat, "Just cool it today. Relax and let Q take care of you. You should be okay by this evening, but think about getting your tonsils looked at by a real doctor."

Rachel momentarily panics and looks to you for support. You hand her the bowl of soup and rub the area between her shoulder blades supportively, "I'm sure it's nothing to worry about."

Santana nodded, "It could just save you future sore throats if you get them out now."

"Never!" Rachel glares at Santana. You firmly put your hand on her shoulder to keep her from jumping out of the bed. Rachel sets the soup down next to her tea and launches into full on rant mode, "Julia Andrews got her throat operated on in 1997 and her singing voice just returned a few years ago! And that was after years of vocal therapy! I can't afford to lose my-"

"Rachel!" You bark, surprising yourself as well as the two girls with you. You gently squeeze her shoulder, "You're getting yourself worked up about nothing. Santana is just suggesting a consultation. No surgical instruments will go anywhere near your throat. I promise."

Rachel takes a deep breath and leans into you. Her head rests on your shoulder and you can't help, but stroke her hair as she murmurs, "Sorry."

"It's okay," you drop a kiss on her head without thinking about it, but once you realize what you did, you decide to go with it like it didn't mean anything; like your lips aren't still tingling. "I'm going to go put Santana to bed and then I'll come check on you in a few minutes."

She nods against your shoulder and collapses on the bed. Santana gives you a quirked eyebrow look as you lead the way out of the bedroom. She closes the door and silently follows you to your bedroom.

The complete lack of accusation in her look surprises you. Maybe she hasn't quite connected the dots yet. Maybe she still thinks of you as the same girl you were in high school and is a little creeped out by your affection for the Broadway star because of the glaring contrast.

Regardless, you lay on the bed next to Santana. You snake your arms around her waist and you feel her do the same. As you lay on the bed you know that you're both pretending to be holding someone else. She's pretending you're a little bit taller and you're pretending she's a little bit shorter.

You know your talk with Brittany helped a little. More on the honesty front and not so much on the actually seeing each other front. Santana misses Brittany. You can tell every time you see her. You want to tell her that you're both in the same boat. That you're hurting too.

You look down at her and find her already asleep. You've already formulated a short speech in your head so you go ahead and whisper it to her, knowing that it'll at least make you feel any better, "I feel your pain S. I do. I'm so in love with Rachel and I have been since high school and now…we live together. It hurts when she touches me, but it feels so good. I…" Tears sting the back of your eyes, but you refuse to let them take over.

You carefully disengage from Santana and make your way to the kitchen. You pick up your coffee that has turned cold by now and finish it off. Then you poke your head into Rachel's room and find that she's almost asleep with her eyes intently watching Fanny move across the screen.

You start to leave, when she stops you, "Quinn."

"Hmm?" you step back into the room, but keep near the door.

"Where are you going?" she asks.

"I'm going to go clean the kitchen, finish the coffee and then get ready for work," you explain, watching her eyes struggle to stay open. "I'm not leaving until two and I'll come tell you before I do, but you can call me anytime before then and I'll come running."

She let out a weak smile, "Thank you Quinn."

"Get some sleep," you add softly before closing her bedroom door.

After cleaning the kitchen and straightening up the living room, you check on Santana who is still sleeping soundly. Then you check on Rachel who has finally drifted off. The silence in the apartment has become a rare thing for you. When you and Rachel are together there's constant chatter even when you're watching TV or a movie. When she's at a show, you're usually not home because there's so much to see and so much to do. You going to the piano room and retrieve a book. It's been so long since you've just sat down and read that you can't remember the title of the last book you finished.

After a few hours, your phone rings. You smile at the name on the screen. You answer with a, "You're supposed to be asleep."

"You said if I needed anything to call you," you answers. She sounds a lot better than she did earlier.

"Okay, what do you need?" You dog-ear the page you're on and set it on the coffee table.

"I need someone to lay down with me," she whines.

You get up off of the couch and slowly make your way to her room, "Shall I call David for you?"

"Quinn," she huffs, "Get in my bed immediately."

You hear the beep of a disconnected call and let out a soft chuckle. When you open the door, she's smiling at you. You roll your eyes and crawl into her bed next to her, careful to stay on top of the covers.

She snuggles close to you and sighs contently. You can't help, but run your fingertips the length of her arm. "Do you feel better?"

"A little," she answers, sleepily, "I'm going to go back to sleep if that's okay with you."

"Sure," you start to get off of the bed, but her hand shoots to your hip.

"Stay," she whispers with her eyes closed. She scoots closer to you, "Please?"

You give up on leaving and grab a free pillow to stack on top of the one your head is already on. Then Rachel rests her head on your shoulder. You bite back a noise that would mean you're enjoying this more than you should be.

You run your finger through her silky hair until she falls asleep and not a second longer. You'd feel like you're taking advantage of her and that's not right.

After pacing in the living room for a good twenty minutes, you decide to make the two sleeping brunette's something to eat and go to work early. You need space and air and clarity. You hate this guilty feeling. You just want it gone.

You walk over to the sink to fill up your water bottle before you head out and find that the faucet is leaking from the base. You frown because you should have noticed that earlier. Like you need something else to worry about. So on the way out you call the maintenance office and get told that they'll get to it as soon as possible. Like that actually means anything.

Work goes surprisingly well. You get a few new listings which makes a few of the other agents glare at you from their cubicles. You can't help it if the second a skeezy bachelor walks in needing a new pad, he picks you out because you're blonde and hot and smiling as soon as you see a single guy walk in. It's too easy. They're too easy. As soon as they leave after signing a contract saying that you're they're real estate agent, you roll your eyes. Way, way, way too easy.

When you get home Rachel's gone which you assume means she feels well enough to do her show. That's okay with you tonight. You think that you may need to distance yourself from her for a while. At least physically. That's feeling that's growing in the pit of your stomach is uncomfortable and you can't help, but want it gone.

Of course the sink is still leaking. You call the maintenance office again and get a polite, robotic voicemail. You leave a polite, robotic message asking them to please get to your leaky sink as soon as possible.

Tonight you're way too exhausted to stay awake and wait for Rachel to get home. You feel bad about it, but you've stayed up for her every other night. What's tonight out of all the others?

You fade in and out of sleep all night. After such a productive, exhausting day, you figure that you would be able to sleep like a log, but no here you are at three-sixteen in the morning staring at the ceiling. You're thinking about that stupid sink because it's easier than thinking about Rachel who is presumably asleep in her bed.

As you roll over in your bed, you hear a faint noise coming from outside your bedroom door. You don't see sleep in your immediate future so you get up and go see what it is.

Once in the living room, you find Rachel sitting on the couch wrapped in a blanket watching Bette Midler's stand up routine on the massive TV in the living room.

You move to the couch and see that in the light of the TV, she's upset. Her eyes are puffy and you know she's been crying.

"Rach, what's wrong?" you sit next to her.

She's surprised by your appearance and just looks at you. You pull her into your arms, deeply concerned that something horrible has happened. "What happened?" You ask quietly, "Are your dads okay?"

She nods and sniffles, "It's stupid."

"Just tell me," You whisper and lay back so that she's on top of you. You slowly rub her back and kiss her forehead, "Please."

"I had a horrible dream." She explains in a weak voice, "That I lost my voice forever and was never able to sing again. It's…horrible."

You cup her cheek as her head rests on your chest, "That's not stupid."

You both sit in silence for a few minutes, until you're sure she's asleep. You start to move to get out from under her so she'll be more comfortable, but she sits up. "Sorry, I thought you were asleep," you gently massage her scalp.

"Can I…sleep with you tonight?" she asks quietly, like she's embarrassed.

There's a lump in your throat, but you can't deny her that. You can't deny her anything. You wallow the lump and a deep sigh before answering, "Sure."

You've slept a grand total of three hours and now you're awake watching her sleep in your arms. Her face is relaxed without the extreme emotions that usually cross it. She was snuggling into your body, pressed against you as if you could protect her from the bad dreams. And you try. You want to protect her and if you could crawl into her dreams and fight the darkness, you would without hesitation.

As you watch her, a knot of guilt begins to tangle in your stomach. This isn't fair to her. Not in the least. You feel like you're taking advantage of your roommate and best friend. But you're warm and she's safe in your bed. You love this and that's why you feel guilty. You feel like you need to tell her. It may drive a wedge between you, but she's been honest with you and you've been honest with yourself, maybe it's time to be honest with her. You know that she won't outright reject you. She may just be less affectionate which will probably be good for you. Maybe you can move on. Maybe.

The next day is your glorious day off. Rachel begs you to go to the spa with her. She has a mandatory hair trim to get to, but you politely decline. You explain that you were promised some Brittany time today and you were going to make the other blonde pay up. Plus you need someone to vent to and she's the only person that knows. She pouts, but wishes you a good day anyway.

"I love this song," Brittany mentions as you two relax in her living room, sprawled out on the couch.

You nod. It's a good song, but you're not thinking about the song. You're making a list in your head. Pros and Cons of telling Rachel. Finally you push the list to the side. "Where's Santana?"

"She has a lab or something," Brittany lays her head on the arm of the couch and put her legs over your lap. "She'll be back soon."

You put your arms around her knees and rest your cheek on one of them, "I'll leave when she gets here so you can have some alone time."

"You don't have to," Brittany smiles at you, "I never get to see you either."

"But you don't want to have sex with me," you smirk and poke her in the side.

She giggles and shrinks away, "Well…"

You laugh even harder even though you think she may be serious. Now that you think about it, it's been a long time since you've actually had sex. You tell Brittany that and she looks at you like someone just killed your puppy.

"It's really not that big of a deal," you add because the look she's giving you is making you feel weird.

She picks up the remote and changes the song. "What about Rachel?"

"What about her?"

"You can have sex with her," she offers innocently.

You laugh humorlessly, "Uh, I don't think so."

"Sure you can," she adds, looking at you with her big blue eyes, "Like friend sex."

"Friend sex?"

"Friend sex," she states. She blows her bangs out of her eyes, "It's when you have sex with your friend, but it kinda wouldn't be friend sex to you."

"Right," you nod, "And that's why we can't." That along with a million other reasons.

Brittany's voice is low when she asks, "You love her a lot don't you?"

Before you can answer, Santana walks in. She spots both of you and walks over, "What's up?"

Brittany gets up to greet her with a kiss and you can't help a smile. They're so cute. You envy them, but you'd never say it out loud.

"Just discussing my travesty of a love life," you answer, standing off the couch.

"You love life has been a travesty for a long time," Santana says and pulls you into a brief hug, "Care to narrow it down?"

You look over at Brittany who has a big goofy grin on her face. "It's…" You trail off.

Brittany is bouncing on the balls of her feet like she's about to pee her pants, "Can I tell her?"

You smile at her eagerness and shrug. What's the harm? Brittany knows. Rachel's going to know. Santana should too.

"QuinnsinlovewithRachel," Brittany blurts out in a sentence that was just condensed into one long word. She took a deep breath and smiles, "Yay."

"Yay-what-yay?" Santana looks to you, confused, "Is this for real?"

You slowly nod.

"How long?"

"For like...ever." You sigh with a shrug. You lean back in the couch.

You and Brittany stare at her for a while as you watch her go over everyday of her life that she's known you to look for missed clues. A light bulb of recognition goes off. "Well damn."

"Did you tell her?" Brittany asks eagerly.

"I'm going to tonight," you explain. You can't keep her in the dark anymore. It's not fair. Besides even though the cons outweigh the pros in quantity, the pros mean so much more. Immediately you know Santana thinks it's a bad idea so you add, "She deserves to know. It'll explain all of high school. Plus, it feels wrong when she's in my bed and doesn't know how I feel."

"You've slept together?" Santana's eyes nearly bug out of their sockets.

"Yes, but actual sleep. She had some nightmares and got scared."

Santana rolls her eyes. She's about to say something until Brittany preemptively cuts her off, "What do you think she's going to say?"

You shrug, "I doubt she'll be mad or weird about it...but just in case she does - and I'm talking doomsday scenario here- can I live with you guys?"

"Of course," Brittany answers. Santana just nods like you should already know that.

"Thanks," you rise and swallow hard, "Well I'm going to go start my 'I'm sorry I'm in love with you' dinner."

When you walk into your apartment, you hear music coming from the far hallway. You let out a smile and drop your purse by the door. You smile and follow the sound into the piano room.

She's behind the piano with her eyes closed, blank sheet music in front of her, softly playing something that sounds like a song you vaguely recognize. You lean on the doorframe and contently until she opens her eyes. She looks surprised to see you there and offers you a bashful smile.

You can't help, but smile back, "Do you still write songs?"

"I-yeah," she nods sheepishly. "You caught me." She raises her hands from the keys.

"That sounded really good," you push off of the doorframe and run your teeth over you lip. "Can I hear it?"

"Oh I haven't actually written anything yet. Just warming up. I don't seem to have much of a muse anymore." She ghost her fingers over the keys, still a little shy looking.

"No suppressed emotions?" You ask. That's just wishful thinking on your part and you know it.

She laughs, "You've know me for how long Quinn? Do I suppress anything?"

You laugh too. "No. You don't." You just watch her for a minute and she looks back with a content smile. God you love her. Finally you stand up straight and say, "Well if you play something loud enough for me to hear in the kitchen, I'll get dinner started."

"You cook way too much," she shakes her head. She pats the piano bench next to her and you sit down. You can smell a trace of her perfume in the air. "Not that I'm complaining." She plays a few chords, "You're an amazing cook. However, I feel bad that the best I can do is oatmeal."

"That oatmeal was the best I've ever had," you playfully bump shoulder with her. She tried to cook breakfast for you one morning and you choked it down because she was excited about it. Then you spent an hour cleaning the kitchen, wondering how she made that huge of a mess over oatmeal.

She beams. You absolutely love Saturday and Sunday nights. Matinee shows get her home in time for dinner. During the week you come home from work and make her lunch or make sure that there is something ready for her, but these nights you cherish because it's just you and her until the next morning.

"Let me take you out tonight. There's a place downtown with a great wine selection. You won't have to eat vegan either." She starts to softly play a song you know.

You watch her deft fingers move over the keys, "One condition."

"No I will not stop singing in the shower. It's an integral part of my vocal exercises." She lets out a playful grin.

You chuckle, "No. I'll start to worry if you stop singing in the shower. In fact, my condition is that you sing for me, but not that song." You point to the piano, "I'll cry if you sing that song."

Her hands drop into her lap, "Really?"

You nod.

"You cried when I sang it in high school."

"I know and you're the only one that that happens with," you state, looking at your nails.

"Why?"

You shrug, "No idea. I even cried when you sang that in the shower last week."

"Hmm," she puts her hands back on the keys, her fingers easily finding the right notes to a completely different song. "How about this?"

You immediately recognize the song and smile as she starts to sing.

_Three little birds, sat on my window._   
_And they told me I don't need to worry._   
_Summer came like cinnamon_   
_So sweet,_   
_Little girls double-dutch on the concrete._

_Maybe sometimes, we've got it wrong, but it's alright_   
_The more things seem to change, the more they stay the same_   
_Oh, don't you hesitate._

_Girl, put your records on, tell me your favourite song_   
_You go ahead, let your hair down_   
_Sapphire and faded jeans, I hope you get your dreams,_   
_Just go ahead, let your hair down._

_You're gonna find yourself somewhere, somehow._

_Blue as the sky, sunburnt and lonely,_   
_Sipping tea in a bar by the roadside,_   
_(just relax, just relax)_   
_Don't you let those other boys fool you,_   
_Got to love that afro hair do._

_Maybe sometimes, we feel afraid, but it's alright_   
_The more you stay the same, the more they seem to change._   
_Don't you think it's strange?_

_Girl, put your records on, tell me your favourite song_   
_You go ahead, let your hair down_   
_Sapphire and faded jeans, I hope you get your dreams,_   
_Just go ahead, let your hair down._

_You're gonna find yourself somewhere, somehow._

When she finishes you smile and give her a hug, "That was great."

"Are you ready to go?" she asks, removing her fingers from the keys. She plays with the hem of your dress, waiting for your answer.

"I have a better idea. How about I show you how to make that eggplant stir-fry that you love," you offer. You don't want to have to tell her in a public place. Especially if the doomsday scenario is how it does down.

"Yay," she grins. Her face lights up and she puts her arms around your waist. You hold her around her shoulders and close your eyes just in case she never wants you to touch her against after dinner.

"Quinn are you okay?" She softly whispers in your hair.

You pull back with a smile, "Yeah. Ready?"

You two manage to make a mess of the kitchen, but make a delicious dinner that you eat, standing up at the bar, reminiscing about high school.

She picks up your empty bowl and takes it with hers to the sink, "I'm totally making dessert on my own." She starts the coffee maker and opens the freezer.

"Wait," you say and take a deep breath, it's now or never.

She looks at you expectantly, closing the freezer. "Hmm?"

Your eyes dart around the kitchen. You don't know if you can do this anymore. You're more nervous than you've ever been in your whole life.

"Quinn what's wrong?" she softly asks putting her hand over yours that is resting on the counter, "You're acting really weird tonight."

You sigh, "I'm sorry." The coffee machine beeps, announcing that it's done. You love how fast it moves in the morning and especially right now, "Let's get some coffee and talk at the table."

She nods. You both silently make your coffee just the way you like it and move to the table together. You sit across from each other. You stare really, really hard at your coffee. You can feel her watching you. You need to tell her and now is as good of a time as any.

"I can't live with you unless I'm completely honest with you," you scrape you shoe across the floor. You've never been more nervous in your entire life. You look at her questioning face. She's worried and concerned. You wrap your arms around yourself and look at the table, "I understand that you may not want to live with me after I say what I'm going to tell you which is okay. I'd understand-"

"Quinn just tell me," you gives you a soft smile, "I'm sure nothing will affect our friendship."

You take a deep breath and count to three in your head, "I've had...feelings...for you," suddenly everything is coming out faster than you can filter the words, "non platonic, romantic feelings for a really long time but I know you're not attracted to women and even if you were you're with David which I guess explains why I don't like him. I just... You need to know because I couldn't keep you in the dark. It wouldn't be fair to you or anything. That being said I'm not going to like try to sneak peeks of you getting out of the shower or anything cause that's pervy and creepy. I just... You need to know."

She takes a moment to absorb the waterfall of words that just rushed out of your mouth. She watches you carefully and you can practically see the cogs moving behind her eyes as she processes your words. After a few agonizing seconds and you having to step on your own foot so you wouldn't run off, she slowly nods, "I understand. And like I said before, it won't affect our friendship if you don't want it to."

You're having trouble believing this. How well she's taking it and her lack of reaction to it.

She stands up and opens her arms to you. You let out a long sigh of relief and get up, taking the step into her arms. Absolutely nothing changes in the way she hugs you. She still squeezes you tight and holds you a few seconds after.

"So," she pulls away and tentatively asks, "are you...gay or bisexual... Or is it just me?"

You exhale and sigh, "I don't know. I'm not really...I think it's just you."

"Lucky me," she giggles and prances to the kitchen, "I was thinking key lime pie for dessert. Pretty much because, apart from oatmeal, I can make it. Sound good?"

"It's fine." You're perplexed by her nonchalance. But you're sure someone tells her that they're in love with her almost everyday. You just expected more of a response.

She begins to get out pans and ingredients for the pie. As she's juicing the limes, she pauses and looks at you, "You know, so much of my high school experience now makes sense."

You nod, "Not only was I a bitch but a bitch with the emotional complexity of a six year old boy."

You watch her move around the kitchen with a grace that doesn't need to be practiced. She's thoughtfully preparing dessert while humming to herself. It doesn't take long for her to finish and you help her set the table before you both sit opposite each other on the table.

"Now that I've had some time to process what you've told me, I think we should talk," she looks across the table at you.  
You're instantly nervous again, "Uh, okay."

"When did these feelings start?" she asks, taking a bite of her pie.

Your fork pauses above the pie. You look down at it and poke it with your fork. It's a little soft because it didn't get to chill, but she seems to be liking it. "You know that speech you gave me, in the hallway right after I got pregnant?" You glance up at her to see her nod before looking back down at your pie, "That's when I knew. I'm sure there were feelings before that, but…that's what I knew."

"So Puck and Finn and Sam were…" She prods.

You sigh, "Puck was just a friend…and my child's father obviously. Finn was my ticket to prom queen which…you know how that turned out." She softly smiles at you and nods. "I actually liked Sam, but was blinded by my insane need for popularity."

She takes another bite of her pie and then rests her chin in her hand, "It was really brave of you to tell me Quinn. It must have been hard."

You exhale with a small smile, "You have no idea."

"I said it before and I'll say it again, as many times as you need me to," she looks you dead in the eye, "We're still friends. No matter what. Best friends. Even if you decide that these feelings were just jealousy over my insanely amazing voice."

You laugh and it puts you at ease. You're grateful for how well she's taking it.

In fact, she's taking it so well, that absolutely nothing changes. The hugs and the cuddling stay exactly the same. Brittany and Santana are weirder about it when you four go to dinner Sunday night.

So you fall back into your old routine. Sometimes you forget that you told her. Sometimes when you look at her a little too long she giggles or lets out a playful wink. You don't fool yourself into believing that it's anything, but friendship because she is still going out with David. She just doesn't tell you that she goes out on date anymore. She just says she's going out and asks if she wants you to bring anything back for you.

On one such evening, you're sitting on the couch, on the phone with your mom while going over some of your work. You've had a good day at work and it doesn't bother you as much as it usually does that Rachel's on a date with David. You may just be getting over this thing.

There's a knock on the door that definitely isn't expected. "Hold on mom." You answer the door and find a guy wearing a blue button down work shirt and dirty jeans. He's holding a toolbox in his hand. He let's out a nervous, crooked smile that reaches his green eyes, "Leaky sink?"

Your mouth drops open. You've only called them about a hundred times about coming to fix it and the handyman shows up at seven o'clock on a weeknight. You let him in and nod. "It's only been a week and a half."

"I'm sorry," his head tilt a little as he makes his way to the kitchen, his shaggy dirty blonde hair falling into his eyes. "We've been backed up all week. I'm actually off the clock now. You've just been so insistent."

You smile softly at him, "I'm sorry. It's been a long week. Do you need anything before you get started?"

"No thanks," he smiles back and puts his toolbox down on the floor by the sink.

"Okay, let me know if you do," you reply before walking back to the living room, "Okay mom, so what were you saying?"

"I'm coming to visit you soon," she says like you're supposed to be surprised and happy about it.

You're definitely surprised, "Oh…great. Yay." It sounds forced, even to you.

"Quinnie, I haven't see you almost a month and a half," she explains.

"I know," you sigh, "I'm glad you're coming. I'm sure Rachel will be happy that you're here to keep her company during the day too."

"Rachel Berry?" you roll your eyes as she launches into how she listened to Rachel sing Christmas Carols on her Broadway Christmas album last night (even thought Christmas is months away) and how she has such an amazing voice. You muse that there has got to be something about Rachel Berry and Fabray women. You're going to have to introduce Rachel to your sister someday to see if she falls in love too.

After a few minutes, you tell your mom you have to work and to let you know when she's coming. She gives you a date, which is next weekend before telling you she loves you and hanging up.

You sigh and get up off of the couch. You need to make sure the handyman isn't stealing dishes or anything. Instead you find him packing up his things.

"All done already?" you ask, standing at the entrance of the kitchen.

He looks up at you, "No. I have to go find a washer for it. I put tape on it for now, which I know is ugly, but it's keep it from leaking until I get back."

"Which will be?" you prod.

"Tomorrow," he smiles and stand up, dusting his hands on his jeans, "It was nice to meet you Ms. Berry."

"Fabray," you correct him, "I'm…Ms. Berry's roommate."

He smiles again, this time you notice a dimple in his right cheek, "Then it's nice to meet you Ms. Fabray. I'll be back tomorrow afternoon to fix your sink."

"Thanks," you smile back. He seems to be sort of flirting with you, but it's been so long it's hard for you to tell. "Um, Quinn. Call me Quinn."

"I'm Ethan," he extends his hand and you shake it. "I'll see you tomorrow?" he asks, sounding kinda hopeful.

You nod, "If you're here in the afternoon yeah, I'll be here."

"Awesome," he grins again, "Well…bye." With that he walks out.

You smile after him. He was awkward, but in a cute sort of way. "Hmm," you say to yourself and go back to your work. If he was flirting maybe it'll help get your sink fixed faster.

When Rachel gets home, she doesn't look happy. When you ask her what's wrong, she puts on a smile and asks you about your day, completely dodging your question. You tell her that it was uneventful and the handyman will be back tomorrow to fix the sink. She lets out a long sigh with a forced smile. She tells you she's going to bed because she's tired and she's going to the theatre at three the next day to clean out the old flowers and fan mail from her dressing room and asks if you want to go with her so she can show you around. She looks hopeful and you agree. With a hug, she's off to bed and you're still on the couch working.

At one a.m. you're not sure what's keeping you awake. You're exhausted and the bed is so comfortable. You roll over one last time and sigh, hoping it will get you to sleep.

"Quinn?"

You frown and sit up. You barely heard her over the shuffle of your sheets. "Rach?" You can see her standing in the doorway of your bedroom. You've had dreams that started like this. Of course they ended in a naked glistening mess of your intertwined post-orgasmic bodies.

"Would it um…" she paused, her voice is tiny and it immediately concerns you, "Would it be pushing the friend line if I asked to lay down with you for a little while? I had another very vivid dream and it frightened me."

You can't help, but smile. You scoot over to the far side of the bed, "C'mere."

You hear her let out, what you've grown to know is, a sigh of relief. She easily slides into your bed and settles under the covers with a whispered, "Thank you."

She snuggles into your like she always does and you hold her like you always do. It feels so natural, but at the same time it makes your heart race. When you feel her drift off to sleep, you close your own eyes trying to get to sleep.

Your sleep doesn't last long because your phone rings not quite an hour later. You snatch it off of the nightstand so it won't wake Rachel up. When you see the name on the screen you know you have to answer, so you quickly and quietly slip out of the bed. You close your bedroom door behind you and flop down on the couch. "Hello?"

"Heeey Quinn," Puck slurs into the phone. You know he's drunk and you're usually his go to drunk dial because you have some weird bond where you're on the border of being best friends and occasionally enemies.

When he's done talking about…whatever he talked about (you weren't listening), you're exhausted. So much so that you fall asleep on the couch before you can even think about going back to bed.

"You know, if I make you uncomfortable at all you can tell me," She looks at you from her perch on the arm of the couch. She rolls her water bottle between her hands.

You were only vaguely aware that she was there because you weren't even really awake yet. You see her from under the arm that's covering your barely functioning eyes. You stretch, the haze of your dream slowly lifting. You roll onto your back and ask in your ever-articulate way, "Huh?"

She looks deeply thoughtful in her half-zipped workout jacket and running shorts. You run your hands over your face trying to keep your eyes off of her legs. If she's ready to go work out you need to start getting ready. You forget she said something and that you asked her to repeat it.

She follows you into the bathroom right on your heels, which prompts you to remember that she said something.

"What did you say?" you pick up your toothbrush figuring you can get ready while she talks. It's happened before. She told you everything that annoyed her with the rest of her cast a few days ago while you were getting ready. She even called you after you left to finish her rant. When you got to work you found a few texts with a caveat that she still loves the cast and thanks you for listening.

She leans on the doorframe with the look of a sad puppy. Once you brush your teeth and she hasn't said anything you frown. "Rach, what's wrong?"

"I said if I make you uncomfortable, you can tell me," she sighs, her eyes on the ground, "It won't hurt my feelings."

You frown deepens, but you not, "I will."

She looks up at you expectantly and you search her poised face. You know you need to say something but you can't find what she wants, "Thank you?"

Her face morphs to something akin to frustration. She sighs heavily. "You could have just told me to go back to _my_ bed."

You're so beyond confused right now. You pull your hair out of the mess of a ponytail it's in and run your hand through it, to buy some time. You run through what she's said as the coffee maker beeps.

The beep seems to signal all of your disjointed thoughts to connect and a smile jumps to your face. "Puck called me at two this morning." It's her turn to be confused. You pause to see if she can figure it out. After a few seconds you add, "I didn't want to wake you up so I went to the couch and fell asleep on the phone."

You watch a deep blush creep up her cheeks in the mirror. "Oh." She breaths, "Well..." She trails off and disappears.

You give up on your hair and strip down to your underwear to get dressed.

She appears again when you step out of your closet fully dressed. She's sitting on your bed with coffee in her hand. She stands and offers it to you.

"Thank you," you smile and take it.

"I apologize for accusing you of being...covertly uncomfortable. I know I'm an extremely physically affectionate person, and some times I cross some lines even with people who..."

"Aren't in love with you?" you wiggle your eyebrows.

She smiles and glows every time you bring it up and you love it. Even if to her it's just extreme flattery. She smiles and playfully banters back. "Well who isn't." You laugh and sip your coffee. She made it just how you like it. Her smile fades a smidge conveying seriousness, "I just want you to be honest with me."

"I've never been dishonest with you." You add with a reassuring hand on her shoulder. Never may be reaching, but recently for sure.

She steps up to you and hugs you, "I'm sorry I freaked out."

"It's okay," You rub her back, "Our situation is...weird."

"I like it," she murmurs, "I'm glad you're my best friend-roommate-other."

"Other?"

"There's no category for you my dear," she puts on a southern drawl. She caresses your hand in between the two of hers and looks down at them. "I'm glad you're here okay? Ecstatic even and more than anything I want this to work."

You nod and let out a breathy, "Me too." You love this torture that you go through just to be around her. At first her touch seems your undoing but when it's gone you need it back. She helped you get out of Lima. She helped you out of your failed marriage. She helped you find peace with yourself and who you love and how.

"It _will_ work through," you grin wickedly, "You know why?"

"Why?" she lets go of your hand.

"Cause we're the three best friends that anyone could have," you start to sing, "And we'll never, never, never, ever leave each other."

Her fingers immediately find her ears and she screeches, "Quinn Fabray!"

You continue singing the same lines as loud as you can and follow her as she tries to get away. She starts singing "La la la la la," on repeat. She's still running from you with her fingers in her ears, but you can tell that she's smiling. Okay, part of you is still the emotional six-year-old boy who likes getting stupid songs stuck in her head and dumping slushies on her to show how much to like her.

Finally she turns to you in the middle of the living room and turns the volume up. She leans forward and you match her. You're practically yelling the song at her and she's doing the same thing, with huge smiles on your faces. When you can see how there are flecks of gold mingled in the brown of her eyes, you decided that you should take a step back. You put your hands up and surrender because if you didn't you would have kissed her and that would have made the roommate thing awkward.

She takes her fingers out of her ears and smiles at you. You can see the caring in your eyes and it gives you goosebumps. "You should probably get going. We can color and build with blocks when you get home."

You laugh and nod. You're ready for your day now. Being with her is just plain exhilarating. Who needs coffee when you have a daily dose of Rachel Berry.

You grab your shoes and chug the rest of your coffee before heading for the door. She's standing next to the door with a muffin in her hand. You roll your eyes but secretly love it. As you pass, you pluck it out of her hand and shoot out the door.

"Have a good day at work honey!" She yells after you.

You duck your head as she laughs. All of your neighbors probably think you're both nuts.


	10. Chapter 10

"How are my two favorite Ohio-ian..ites?" David asks walking into the apartment with a paper bag in his arm as you and Rachel sat sitting at the table eating (choking down) some oatmeal that she made for lunch because she went to sleep after the gym and you accidentally woke her up when you got home. You find that if you sip your coffee between each bite, it's easier to keep it down.

"They're eating some really amazing oatmeal if I do say so myself." Rachel grins at him and it makes your stomach churn. He goes in for the kiss and she turns her cheek, her eyes momentarily glancing at you. He settles for kissing her cheek and pulls a few vegan treats out of the paper bag.

"Well I brought dessert for your breakfast-lunch," he smiles at you, "Also," he pulls a bottle out of the bag and slides a bottle of your favorite cranberry Kombucha to you.

"Thanks David," you smile back at him. The more you get to know him, the more conflicted you feel. You hate him because he has Rachel in ways you only dream about, but he's really been trying to extend an olive branch to you.

"Anyway, I gotta go," he kisses Rachel's cheek again, not even attempting to kiss her on the lips, "I have an interview to get to and since I was driving by I thought I'd stop by. Later ladies."

He walks back out and you let out a sigh of relief. This presence is so draining on you because you're trying, really trying not to consciously hate him. You stir your lumpy oatmeal around in your bowl a few times before looking up to see Rachel looking at you.

She smiles, "Thanks for trying to like him."

"Well when he brings me my favorite drink, how can I not?" you don't want to talk about him. You stare to your oatmeal for a few more minutes. It was hard to get some oatmeal made in the time it took for Rachel to answer her phone and buzz him in, but you pulled it off. However, you ended up eating the oatmeal she made which was lumpy and mushy all at once while she was eating the stuff you made with pride all over her face.

And you love doing little things like that for her because she'll smile a little wider or hug you a little longer and a little more is what you crave. You don't understand how calm she is about this whole mess. You feel a little better, but you're still an emotion wreck inside…well not necessarily a wreck. Maybe you're an emotional fender-bender inside. You shake your head and finally speak, "I don't understand how you've always been so much more mature than me. In high school and now..."

She scrapes her spoon across the bottom of her bowl gathering the last of her oatmeal with a smile, "Maybe I'm such an old soul and you're new to this universe."

You smile at her. The relaxed and thoughtful look on her face strikes you as one of the most beautiful things you've ever seen. She smiles at you and shrugs, "It could also be my television intake as a child. Equal parts Oprah, Barbra Streisand and Days of Our Lives."

You laugh because you completely believe it. Seeing her like this just makes you feel like your chest may explode.

You both grow quiet and a comfortable silence encases you. You're looking at your fingers that wrap around your coffee mug. When you look back up, you find her watching you, studying. You feel like you need to say something so you take a deep breath and say, "I'm sorry."

"For?" She leans back in her seat, a slight tilt of her head causing her hair to fall away from her face.

"For how I treated you in high school," you pause, because neither of you has actual spoken out loud about the situation since you told her, "and this whole mess." You motion vaguely between the two of you.

She leans on the table and holds your eyes. "The past is the past. For that I forgive you." She pauses, "however I don't accept your apology for your feelings." You're very confused. You try to read her face for any signs that she's mad but all you find is kindness and understanding. She reaches across the table and takes your hand, "Quinn never apologize for your feelings; not to me or to anyone."

You let out a long sigh. You're relieved and touched that she'd make sure you know that. It makes you love her that much more.

She gently squeezes your hand and gives you a reassuring smile. When she lets go of your hand, she picks up her coffee, "My daddy told me that growing up in your household, especially with a father such as yours, it's a big thing that you accepted your feelings for me and actually had the courage to tell me."

You feel like your eyes may bug out. You are at her in utter disbelief, "You told your dads?"

She nods with a giggle, "I tell them everything." You knew that already. You just didn't think that this…situation fell under the category of 'everything'.

You put your head on the table with a soft thud, "Did you tell anyone else?"

"No," she adds and you can tell she's still smiling. "I guess now is as good of a time as ever to tell you that they're coming for a visit this weekend."

"I'll be at Brittany and Santana's." You mumble.

"Nonsense," she says, "They want to meet you."

"Oh god." You keep your head down. How awkward is that going to be? Then suddenly something hits you, "Oh my god. Oh my god, my mom is coming this weekend. I can't-you can't-" you've never had a panic attack before but you're pretty sure this is what one feels like.

Rachel firmly takes your face in her hands and commands you to breathe. "It'll be fine Quinn. They won't say anything if you don't want then to."

"No!" You shoot out of your chair "Never! Ever! I mean why would she need to know?"

She tilts her head to the side with eyes that try to get you to be honest.

You accuse her, starting a frantic pace through the kitchen, "Don't give me that look!"

"What look?" she asks, her head keeping up with you as you walk.

"That 'do the right thing' look because it's not the right thing! It's the wrong thing. So wrong and your cute little pouty look will not change my mind." You can tell she's trying not to smile so you throw your hands up in the air and storm to your room.

She of course follows you. "Quinn honey, you need to relax. No one will tell your secret. Just show your mom a good time. Our parents don't even have to spend that much time together. Speaking of, how do you want to handle sleeping arrangements?" She sits down on your bed as you start to go through your drawers looking for something to wear today.

"My mom gets my bed," you shrug, "Your dads take yours. You get the couch and I'll take the..." You wave flippantly in the air, "floor."

"Nonsense Quinn," You can see her lay back on your bed in your dresser mirror and you squeeze your eyes closed. This is not the time for inappropriate thought about your roommate. She adds, "The couch folds out. We can share it."

You pull out a long sleeved shirt and shut the drawer, "It does?"

"Mhmm," she nods and pulls one of your pillows down the bed to rest her head on it, "We can _finally_ watch Funny Girl together. You always disappear whenever I turn it on."

"I have problems sitting through movies," you shrug, "I need to do something."

"Well, I'm going to get your drunk or something and we're going to watch it together," she states, "It's going to happen whether you like it or not." She giggles when you roll your eyes. Then she rises from the table, "I'm going to go take a shower and get ready then we can head to the theatre."

You nod and watch her walk away, not bothering to close her bedroom door. She usually doesn't closer her bathroom door. You've never peeked because that's creepy and you like that she trusts you not to.

After you're done cleaning up your lunch mess, you're just about to sit down then there's a knock on the door. When you open it, Ethan is standing there with an awkwardly shy smile.

"Hi," he says, "I'm uh, here to fix your sink…again."

"Great," you smile at him and let him in, "It's in the same place."

He chuckles and runs a hand over her brown hair, "That's probably a good thing."

You go into the living room to find your phone and when you finally find it Ethan is packing up his things back into his toolbox. "That was fast."

"It was just needed a washer," he fastens the top of his toolbox and stands.

You lean on the counter by the sink and watch him turn it on to make sure it's working correctly. When nothing leaks, he turns it off and turns back to you. "Can I…is it too forward if I…ask to take you to dinner?" he asks with his hands in his pockets.

You freeze. His green eyes are sincere and you know he's a nice guy. You know you can't keep waiting on Rachel and you know that's exactly what you're doing. Your eyes flicker to her open bedroom door. You confessed your love and she's still dating David. So you smile, "I'd love to."

He looks really relieved, "Great. Um...how's tonight? I can meet you in the lobby at eight?"

"Perfect," you nod.

He grins and adds, "Well um...I'll see you there."

You nod and he walks off to the door. You follow him and he pauses at the door, rubbing the back of his neck, "Do you like um, pizza?"

"I love it," you grin. He's really cute when he's nervous.

"Great," he nods, "Um, you don't have to dress up."

His rambling makes you smile wider, "Perfect."

"Okay well, I'll see ya then," he nods to himself and then walks off.

You close the door and smile. This is good. This is healthy. This is…your mind goes blank when you spot Rachel walking through the living room in the deep red towel searching for something.

"Uh, Rach?" you ask, trying to keep your eyes above her shoulders, "What are you doing?"

She looks up at you and you can see a blush creep down her cheeks, "I um, my dad is supposed to call and I can't find my phone."

You hit the first speed dial button on your phone and put it to your ear. Her phone starts ringing from her bedroom. She runs off to get it and answers it, "Hello? This is Rachel Berry's assistant. Can I take a message?"

"Jake? Your voice has changed," you giggle into the phone. "Tell Ms. Berry that I'm going to make some guacamole because I'm still hungry and if she doesn't hurry, there won't be any for her."

She lowers her voice trying to sound like Jake, "I assure you she'll be dressed and ready in time to help you eat it."

"You're such a dork," you laugh and hang up the phone. You start making the guacamole and soon enough she come out of her room in pajama shorts and a t-shirt. She sits on the counter across the kitchen from you.

You inform her that you have a date tonight so you need to be back from the theatre in time to get ready.

"You have a date?" she asks, getting a cup down and filling it up from the non-leaking sink next to you.

"Mhmm," you hum as you mash up the avocados.

"With the maintenance guy?" she asks.

You pop a slice of a tomato in your mouth, "Yup. His name is Ethan." You add finishing up her dip and setting it on the counter next to her.

"Well, I'm happy for you," she states with a smile that seems a little forced.

You eye her suspiciously, but shrug it off, "I think that since we don't have to be at the theatre until three, I'll make cookies."

Her whole face lights up, "Vegan cookies?"

"Of course," you laugh and move to start getting things out to make them.

"Where is this alleged date you have tonight?"

"I don't know yet, we're meeting in the lobby. He asked if I like pizza though," you answer, turning back to her, "Why did you say alleged?"

"I have to run a background check on him before I allow you to go out with him." She states matter-of-factly.

You quirk an eyebrow, "Allow me?"

"Of course," she grins, "You're my best friend. I must protect you. So background checks."

"I don't need-"

"Quinn I know you're a big girl, but please humor me. I don't get to comfort you when you have a nightmare about losing your voice in the middle of a show. Or make sure you eat or remind you not to forget your purse or take care of you when you're sick. So far the effort in this relationship has been completely one-sided. If I can't do all those things for you, let me do this." Her head is tilted and her eyes are serious.

You sigh and start talking. You can't let her think that you get nothing out of this, "First of all it's not one-sided. I live here, in Uptown Manhattan for free. You buy most of the food and-"

She waves her hand at you causing you to stop talking, "Oh pish posh, that's just monetary. I'm talking _real_ effort."

"That brings me to number two," you smirk, "Is there anyway I could stop you?"

"No?" she smiles like a child trying to get out of trouble.

"There you go," you grab a bowl and a measuring cup to start the cookies.

After you're done with the new recipe you just got, you both partake in the treat. She thoughtfully chews it with a smile, "So you don't bake them?"

"No. They're vegan, organic and raw, which pretty much means I'll be eating them 24/7 and telling myself that it won't make me fat. But you have to stop me when all I can wear are moo moos." You tease, eyeing the mass of dirty dishes in the sink.

"Don't forget your 50 cats." She adds, grabbing another cookie.

"Oh that reminds me," you say as you swallow your last bite, "Santana is thinking of getting Brittany a cat."

"Really?"

"That's like a step down from proposal for her. She hates cats. They're doing good now. Next thing you know they'll ask you to sing at their wedding."

Rachel snorts, "Santana Lopez does _not_ want me to sing at her wedding."

"But Brittany probably does and whatever B says goes. Santana will probably wear a pink dress or knowing Brittany just lingerie and heels." You offer her another cookie, which she takes.

"That'd be a wedding I'd want to sing at. I met Santana's parents at graduation," she takes a bite, "They don't seem receptive to a lingerie wedding."

You laugh. Santana's parents are very conservative, very catholic, but they spoiled the hell out of her and they love Brittany. There was some turbulence the summer after your first trip to nationals but in the end they love Santana and Brittany and that was the deciding factor in their stance on their views of the relationship.

Rachel opened her mouth to add something when her phone rang in her bedroom. She trots off to get it and you start loading the dishwasher. You're not going to have time to do the dishes after you two head to the theatre because knowing Rachel, it will take right up until eight o'clock to clean out her dressing room and unless your date goes horribly, you won't be home until after ten at which time you'll be too tired to do them.

She walks into the living room, again looking for something while she's on the phone. "Daddy! You bought a lamp without asking him? Did the wallpaper incident teach you nothing?...Well apparently he doesn't _like_ surprises." She explains into the phone.

You chuckle and head to your room to change into something theatre worthy and pizza date worth just in case. When you come out, in a light blue dress with faded pink and yellow flowers and a she's laying out on the couch, exasperated.

"I swear that man," she huffs and peeks at you from under the arm that's thrown over her eyes.

"So they're not coming?" you ask hopefully.

She sits up, "They're still coming. They're just going to be arguing about a lamp the whole time." She looks you up and down, "You look nice."

"Thanks," you smile, spreading out the dress, "Just in case we run a little late because you're going so…we will be late."

She laughs and stands up, pulling you into a hug, "You know me so well." When she let's go, she prances off to her room and returns, dressed and ready to head out. She's in jeans and a black v-neck shirt with black sandals to top it off. She looks so hot and you can see a little cleavage over the shirt. You try not to look and when she catches you, you compliment her necklace to make it look less pervy.

"Is this St. James?" you ask, pulling a picture off of one of the walls in her dressing room. It's a group of four guys that's autographed and you're sure one of them is Jesse.

"Yeah," she pops up behind you. So close that you can feel the heat coming off of her body, "He sent that to me a few months ago. He's in a boy band."

You turn around fully to face her, "You're kidding."

She laughs, "No."

You pull out your phone and take a picture of it. Santana will get a kick out of it. When you're done spreading the word, you put it back up on the wall and start to dump out all the dead flowers in a large trashcan you found on the way in. "Next time you get flowers you should bring them home so I can keep them alive."

"I can keep them alive," she protests albeit weakly, "I mean, I could if I…thought about them."

"Exactly," you smile, "Bring them home next time okay? Our apartment could use to flowers."

"Okay," she nods, sitting down on the couch that spread out against one wall of the small room. She's intently looking at her phone, reading something. You continue to clean because you don't mind doing it and it always helps you think.

"He was arrested!" she yells and shoots off the couch, startling you so bad that you drop the stack of fan mail in you hand.

"Oh my god Rachel," you turn to her with your hands on your hips, "What are you talking about?"

She grins, "Sorry." Then she moves toward you, "Ethan's been arrested. So no you are not allowed to go out with him."

"What was he arrested for?" you sigh and ask, kneeling to pick up the mess of paper on the ground.

"Well my lawyer said that that's sealed because it was in his juvenile record…" her voice trails off. Then she clears her throat and continues, "Regardless, a criminal record does not a good boyfriend make."

"It's just a date. He's not my boyfriend," you place the mail on the vanity and stand up, "Besides, Puck has a very, very long juvenile record."

"I wouldn't let you date him either," you can see her cross her arm in the mirror.

You roll your eyes, "I get the being all protective thing, but it was one juvenile arrest. Who hasn't done stupid things as kids?"

"Me," she states with a firm frown on her face.

"Okay, what normal people haven't done stupid things as kids," you smirk and try to get her to smile. You can see her try to fight one off as she narrows her eyes at you. You open your arms to her and she steps into the embrace, "I'll be fine. I promise."

She let's out a deep sigh, "Okay. I just don't want you to get hurt."

"I know," you inhale and smell her shampoo. You close your eyes letting the scent completely invade your body. "But I'm a big girl. I'll be fine."

She agrees that you'll probably be fine, but you had to promise to call her as soon as you leave your date. As it gets closer to show time, more and more people show up and Rachel introduces you to them all. Just as you suspected, she wasn't going to make it home until after her show, which means you trek back to your apartment solo.

It's a little before eight when you walk into the lobby. You plan to run up to the apartment and maybe change your hair when you spot Ethan sitting in a chair next to the security guard behind the little security desk off to the side. His knee is bouncing and on top of the desk is a bouquet of daisies. Since his eyes are on the floor, he doesn't see you walk up until you're right in front of him.

He shoots to his feet and smiles nervously, glancing at his watch, "You're early."

"So are you," you playfully reply. You're trying to ease his nerves. You need to have a good time tonight and relax. Having a high-strung date does help with that.

He picks up the flowers and offers them to you, "These are for you."

You smile at him and accept them, "They're beautiful." They're not the most expensive bouquet you've ever received, but it's the thought that counts.

As you leave, you ask the security guard, a man well past retirement age with a crush on Rachel, to give them to her so she can take them up to the apartment when she gets back. He happily acquiesces and you leave with Ethan.

You're relieved that he wants to walk to wherever you're going. Cab rides are awkward with new people and you're not a huge fan of the subway. When you arrive, you find yourself in a cozy pub with only a few tables around a long, dark polished wooden bar. There are a few small TVs around the place displaying some sort of sporting event that you can't quite make out. You decide that you like this place. He pulls out a chair at one of the tables for you and you thank him as you sit.

"What kind of pizza do you want?" he asks, with his hand on the back of the chair across from you.

"Um," you pause. You haven't had cheese in so long you're kinda excited, but you're nervous about trying to eat any meat. You don't want to get sick and you're scared at Rachel will find out, "I better stay away from the meat, just in case."

"Beer okay?" he asks.

You nod, "Definitely."

He smiles and walks to the bar, placing your order. When he returns he has a pitcher of beer and two glasses. You're eye are on the game on TV before he sits down.

"Your team playing?" he asks, pouring you both some beer.

You nod. They're not really your team, but they were Finn's team so you learned about the game and who was on the team by watching with him and Puck.

"Knicks fan?" he asks.

You take a sip of your beer, "Nope."

"Oh no," he smiles his dimpled smile, "If you're a Cavs fan then I don't think this'll work out."

As they date and the game progress, you both end up moving to the bar to get a better view of the TV. The beer is making you more of a sports fan. That and the fact that you bet him the tab that the Cavs would beat the Knicks.

As overtime starts, you feel your phone vibrating in your sweater pocket. You pull it out and see that Rachel sent you a text. She's just checking on you and making sure you haven't been arrested or kidnapped. You send her back a text telling her not to worry and you'll be home as soon as the game is over.

A round of cheers echoes through the bar as the Knicks guard scores a three. You're the only one in the bar cheering against them and the patrons have been teasing you about it. You're having a great time cheering against them.

"Yes!" Ethan thrust his fists up in the air when the game-ending buzzer goes off and the Knicks are victorious. He gives you a celebratory hug, which you reciprocate. He doesn't smell like a maintenance guy should and you're surprised. His smells clean and his cologne is faint. His firm chest against you is quite different than it is hugging Rachel. You close your eyes and take a deep breath. It's not fair to him to compare him to Rachel. You need to stop.

"You okay?" he asks and pulls away at your deep breath.

You automatically smile at him, hiding your inner thoughts, "I just can't believe they lost." You open your purse to dig out your wallet, but he puts his hand on your shoulder. You look up just in time to see him hand a few bills over to the bartender. "But our bet-"

"Don't worry about it," he puts his arm around your shoulders guiding you out of the bar, "I'll get it back. It's almost baseball season."

You laugh as you two meander back toward the apartment. He asks you all of your favorite sports teams and you confess that you're from Ohio and that pretty much determines your affiliation. He's a Rhode Island native he likes team from across the board.

"What are you doing in New York?" you ask, "Are you an aspiring actor?"

"No," he shakes his head, "I'm not a singer or a dancer either. In fact I have two left feet."

You giggle. Beer always makes you goofy, "That's funny. I only have one."

He laughs, "Well you can't laugh when I tell you what I do other than handy manning."

"Cross my heart," you say as you spot your apartment building down the block.

"I paint," he states.

You look up at him, "Really?"

He nods. He seems shy about it. He doesn't really seem like the type, but you guess it takes all kinds. He looks down at you, "What about you? Any sort of art you devote your life to?"

You shake your head, "No. I just followed my friends here. I am a lowly real estate agent."

"Lowly nothing," he gently squeezes your shoulders, "You live here. You're not a lowly anything."

You look up at the building in front of your. Your apartment window is up there in all the mess somewhere. Rachel's sitting on the couch in her pajamas, watching some sort of musical or reading or maybe playing the piano. You hope she's playing the piano. You'll be ecstatic if she's up there sitting on the bench, with her eyes closed just feeling the music through her fingertips.

"What was that?" Ethan asks withdrawing his arm from you.

You didn't realize you said anything and you have no idea what it could be.

"Who's Rachel?" he asks.

Of course you said her name. In the middle of a date with a great guy, you say her name because you're daydreaming about her. "She's my roommate. It's really her apartment. I just live with her."

"Regardless," he smiles, "You're not lowly." He stands in front of you, "I was thinking that this went okay. What do you think?"

"It went okay," you nod. You're teasing him and you know that he can see it in your smile. He really is a nice guy.

"So…" he puts his hands in his pockets and rocks onto the balls of his feet, "Can I take you out again?"

After you exchange phone numbers and he promises to call, he gives you a hug and a kiss on the cheek before you make your way upstairs.

When you get inside, it looks like Rachel's been waiting for you on the couch. Next to her is a basket of what you deem to be clean laundry. You know because you're the one that put it in the washer. "What are you doing?"

"Laundry," she grins. For a brief moment she looks like a child seeking a commendation for doing something well.

You chuckle and ruffle her hair, "Congratulations."

She huffs, "I'm just trying to get things ready for our parents."

You groan and poke through the mail that's sitting on the counter. You find that you're not excited anymore about getting mail because they're mostly bills which are never fun. "What time are your dads getting in Friday?"

"No idea," Rachel shrugs and dumps the sheets onto the couch. You walk over to help her start to fold them, "They never tell me because daddy's convinced that if I'm too distracted by their arrival time I'll fall off the stage in front of eight hundred people. What about your mom?"

You both pick up the same sheet and start folding it together, "Oh like eleven I think. I cleared my whole day so I can pick up your dads if you need me to."

"I'll check with them to see what time, but they know what time my shows are so they wouldn't schedule they're flight in while I'm performing unless they had to," she takes a step toward you so that you can take the corners she's hold to finish folding it. When her fingers brush against yours, you silently gasp. No matter how much she hugs you or cuddles with you, even the smallest of touches still electrifies you.

"By the way," she grins, "How was your date?" She bends over to pick up a sheet and you look a little too long. Luckily you catch yourself before she does.

"It was really great actually," you can't help, but smile. You did have fun. "We went to a pub and watched basketball and ate pizza and drank beer."

She quirks a disbelieving eyebrow at you.

You chuckle, "Believe it or not, I don't expect five star restaurants and wine and roses on every date." You glance around and spot the daisies he bought you in a vase on the dining table. "Sometimes I like daisies and beer."

She still doesn't look impressed. She finishes folding whatever she's folding and sigh, "Maybe I'm just a romantic. Too many movie musicals as a child."

"Tell me about it," you tease her and pick up a pillowcase. Instead of folding it, you toss it onto her head.

She giggles and lifts the corner to peek out from under it, "Night cap?"

You shrug. You've already had a little less than half a pitcher of beer. What's another glass of wine? "Why not?" Somewhere, drowning under all that beer, is the little voice in your head that's telling you that you have to pick up your mother from the airport in the morning so you should get some sleep. And isn't there a saying about beer before wine? But Rachel has a gleam in her eyes that mean she's excited. You don't care what she's excited about and it doesn't matter. So you have a glass of wine with her, not thinking about the headache you'll have tomorrow or your mother's judgmental gazes.


	11. Chapter 11

Your mom calls you at nine a.m. to tell you that she's boarding a plane to New York. You can't believe that you've slept that late and when you get out of bed you remember why. Your joints ache and your head is pounding. You mumble dirty words under your breath as you shuffle to your bathroom and try to make yourself look presentable or at least not hungover.

When you walk into the kitchen you find Rachel participating in her new hobby, yoga, in the living room. You don't know why she took it up because all she does is downward dog and then sits with her legs crossed on the yoga mat flipping through magazines. But when she does downward dog, like she's doing now, you can't help but watch her and her perfect posterior pretend like they know how to do yoga.

When she lays down on the floor in a limp mass, you roll your eyes and make your way to that wonderful coffee smell in the kitchen. After getting your coffee, you walk back into the living room and stand next to her as she continues to lay on her yoga mat with her eyes closes.

You wait a few seconds before nudging her calf with your foot. Her eyes flutter open and she smiles at you. "Good morning."

You just sort of groan in a response.

"I thought I heard your phone ring," she extends her arms over her head and stretches.

"Yeah my mom just got on a plane," you explain and sit on the arm of the couch just watching her, "She'll be here in at eleven."

"Oh," Rachel rolls onto her back and rests her hands on her stomach, "My dads just got on a flight as well. I bet they got on the same one."

You let out a sigh. Of course they did. Hopefully their seats are very far apart from each other. The last thing you need is to have to explain to your mother that you've been in love with Rachel since you can remember and no New York didn't make you this way and no there's not really a this way and no you're not with Rachel, of course you told her, no she didn't freak out, yes she is still your best friend, and yeah if you ask nicely she might sing something.

"Don't worry," she says and stands up, "I've already sworn them to secrecy." She gives you a once over and adds, "Maybe you should take a shower. My fathers are very excited to meet you and although I have assured them that you are a great person, of sound mind, they will probably give you the third, fourth and fifth degree because of your feelings towards me. I wouldn't want your hungover appearance to be used as ammunition against you. I can only reign in my fathers so much and when Steve Berry senses that there's something amiss, he won't stop until he finds out what it is."

"Fantastic," you sigh and take another sip of your coffee. You start to make your way back to your bedroom.

"Would you like me to make you some breakfast?" she asks lightly, "We have some oatmeal."

You cringe at the thought of having to eat some lumpy oatmeal with your already volatile stomach nearly makes you run to the bathroom, but you swallow it and answer, "Just some toast please. I don't think I can handle much else."

She grins at you and bounces to the kitchen, "Okay."

After your shower and light breakfast, you both get into your car and start to make your way to the airport. Traffic is light so it doesn't take long. You start to get really nervous. As you're sitting by the baggage claim waiting for their flight to get in, Rachel grins giddily and keeps looking at you. She makes you take off your sunglasses because she says you look shady. You moan that the bright lights hurt your eyes and she tells you to stop being such a baby.

But all your banter is halted when it is announced that your parents' flight had landed and is now unloading. Your hands immediately start shaking. You're not nervous about your mom. You're terrified of Rachel's dads.

"Hey," Rachel takes your hand and gives it a gently squeeze, "They're not horrible monsters. They're just a little overprotective. They'll love you and the rest of the weekend will be a breeze."

You numbly nod. Her hand in yours makes you feel a little better. That is until it disappears and she runs into the arms of her fathers. You clench your fist around your keys, the teeth digging into your hand. You fight the urge to run away.

"Quinnie," your mom's voice says right next to you. You didn't notice her walk up because your eyes locked with the larger of Rachel's fathers and you couldn't move out of his gaze as he sized you up.

Your mom's voice broke the spell and you turn to her accepting a warm hug. It's safe in her arms for a few minutes before Rachel appears next to both of you with her dads behind her.

"Quinn," Rachel places her hand supportively on your back and talks slowly, "These are my dads, Steve and Eliot." She looks at them, "Dad, Daddy this is Quinn, my best friend."

Steve extends his hand with a less friendly smile than his husband's. He frightens you a little as you tepidly take his hand. Rachel smacks him on the arm and his gaze turns to nothing but pure affection for his daughter, "I'm sorry." He then turns to you, "It's so nice to finally meet you."

You just nod and then shake Eliot's hand. He's a lot smaller and a lot less intimidating than Steve. He even goes beyond the handshake and hugs you. You can't help, but smile into it. He's nice and soft and smells like your grandpa.

When he pulls away, you find Rachel and your mom chattering away. It seems your mother has taken it upon herself to introduce herself to Rachel.

You're sort of horrified to find that you will be driving the car with Steve in the front seat with you. Rachel is sandwiched between your mom and Eliot who have all taken to talking together like they're all long lost family. When you check your rearview mirror, you catch Rachel's eyes. She smiles and gives you a wink. You feel a little better until you look over at Steve who is still eyeing you suspiciously.

You keep both hands on the wheel and both eyes forward all the way back to the apartment. You don't think you've ever really been this nervous in your life.

Once inside, you take your mom and her stuff into your room. You're hoping to get a little breathing time, but your mom wants to get back out there and socialize. She's suddenly become best friend with Eliot and Rachel.

You tell her that you'll be there in a minute. She smiles and kisses your head before exiting your room. Not long after she leaves, Rachel comes into your room and sits on your bed next to you. She leans onto you and places an arm around your shoulder. Your head easily slides onto her shoulder and you close your eyes.

"I'm sorry for Daddy. He's a little intense sometimes," she tells you. You can feel her fingers dancing on your shoulder and the soft rhythm makes you feel at ease. "I have told him that you are quite possibly the best thing that's ever happened to me and that he needs to be nicer to you."

You smile a little at Rachel's description of you. You take a deep breath, "Where's David? I shouldn't have to endure this on my own."

"I told him that my dads were in town and he conveniently had a trip to Miami planned," she kisses the top of your head and slides to the floor, "But you're not alone. I'll be right there with you."

You're so nervous to follow her back into the living room that it almost doesn't register that she kissed you. It was a sweet, friendly kiss, but it was a kiss nonetheless. It also gives you a renewed sense of courage. Surely you could handle a weekend with the Berry men and your mother.

It became a lot easier to handle everyone when Rachel suggested that she take all of you to her show and then to dinner afterwards. Your mom is beside herself and her dads are happy. She catches your eyes and gives you a wink before leading the way out the door.

The show was phenomenal as usual and dinner was uneventful. Rachel, Eliot, and your mom manage to keep the conversation going nonstop, leaving you to nervously eye Steve who has stopped glaring at you and has even offered a smile or two.

You all head home and shoo your parents to bed. They more than readily agree because it's almost ten and they all got up early. You brush your teeth in the kitchen and then return to the living room to find that Rachel's already pulled out the bed and had put the sheets on. You're a little nervous that you only see one blanket on the couch, but Rachel fiddling with the remote distracts you. She's got a very concentrated look of frustration on her face as she stands in front of the TV trying to get it to work.

You walk up behind her and place your hand on top of the remote, she quickly gives you control of it. "I just learned how to use the one in my room. This one is impossible."

"What are you trying to do?" you ask.

"Turn it to the DVD player," she states and sinks onto the bed.

When you turn it to the DVD player with a simple click, you can't stop your eyes from rolling. "Funny Girl?"

"I was serious," she grins from the bed, "I want to watch this with you." She shimmies under the blanket and turns off the lamp next to the couch. "So press play and get into bed."

"Are you going to be mad if I fall asleep?" you ask, falling onto the bed.

She makes sure to give you a pointed look before turning off the lamp next to her, the last light that was in the room.

After a few minutes of sitting in darkness as some vaguely familiar music plays, you have to ask, "Where's the picture? I think it's broken." You start to get up to check the cables on the back of the TV.

She holds you down by your arm, "No it's not."

"So there's no picture?" you ask.

She's using her 'I'm almost pissed' voice, "There will be."

And you can't help, but antagonize her, "When cause it's been like ten minutes?"

"It's been two. Be quiet." She huffs and shifts on her side of the bed.

You smirk and add, "So how much longer because I'm about to-"

"Quinn Fabray! Shut up!" she hisses in a stage whisper.

You can't stop a giggle from erupting from your lips. She looks at you and just shakes her head before dropping her head back down on the pillow.

And your commentary continues throughout the entire movie, "Those roller skates are hideous."

"Quinn!"

"Is it frozen?"

"Quinn shut up!"

Then the wedding song comes up and she snuggles into your side. "That's what my wedding is going to look like. Exactly."

You think that there are an awful lot of women in that wedding for her to be marrying a man. You chuckle at your own wishful thinking.  
When another scene comes up she whispers to you like you're in a movie theatre and not laying together on a fold out couch, watching her favorite movie of all time, "Now that Quinn Fabray is a date. Small table for two in a secluded area. Roses, music. Candlelight."

"He's wearing a pinkie ring."

"They're perfectly acceptable."

"If you're a pimp."  
She smacks you, but you both chuckle. Somehow your arms end up around her as Barbra sings "Don't Rain On My Parade." You can't help, but dip your head down and whisper in her ear, "I like this song better when you sing it."

A tightening of her arms around your waist tells you that she heard you and appreciates the comment. You close your eyes and absorb her feel and her smell and how just touching her skin sets your whole body on fire.

When you open your eyes the word Intermission is sitting on the black screen. You can't help, but joke, "Intermission? Does that mean I can go pee now?"

She takes the remote from your hand and pauses it. She pushes herself up into a seated position and looks at you in the glow of the TV. She's got her serious face on and you're a little scared that you actually pissed her off.

"I'm sorry Rach. I won't do it again," you babble, scrambling to sit up with her.

A smile breaks out on her face and she lays back down, "Wow that was easy. I have to remember that face."

You roll your eyes at yourself and lay back down. You really are exhausted and the movie is really long and…just like that you fall asleep during the second act.

You're awakened by a banging in the kitchen. You roll over in the bed and find that you're alone. When you realize that Rachel's probably trying to cook you groan. You even mumble into the pillow, "I will not eat lumpy oatmeal."

"What was that?" a deep voice asks next to you.

Your eyes shoot open and when you see Steve standing next the couch with a coffee mug in his hand your eyes grow wide. You take a few deep breaths and he lets out a chuckle. "Good morning Quinn."

"'Morning," you mumble. You carefully get off of the couch and fold it back up, replacing the cushions so he has somewhere to sit. Then you politely excuse yourself to die in your bathroom.

Rachel takes her dads out to breakfast leaving you with your mom, but as you're walking out the door to take your mom to get some food and see the city, you get a text. "I just got a tip on a new listing by Central Park. Do you mind if we swing by to look at it before we go shopping?"

"Of course not," your mom smile, "I may even take some pictures of you at work."

"Mom," you whine, "I'm twenty-three. You can't do that to me."

She chuckles, "Fine." She follows you to the elevator and you both wait for it to pick you up, "What did you do for your birthday anyway?"

You shrug. You didn't want to make a big deal of your birthday this year. Especially with all the drama going on around you so you didn't tell anyone it was your birthday. Santana called to wish you a happy birthday because her phone told her it was your birthday, but you told her it really wasn't. You're lucky that she'd been up studying all night because she believed you. You couldn't tell your mom or your sister it wasn't so you just kept the calls short telling them you had a lot to do. Your birthday passed with a quiet evening alone in the living room, relaxing. You'd only lived in New York for a few days so it wasn't that big of a deal. Besides the fact that you'd gotten a job the day before was present enough. When Rachel got home that night, you sat on the couch talking until you were too exhausted to talk anymore. You tell your mom you just stayed home and hung out with Rachel.

When you walk into the loft that just went on the market you can't stop a gasp. When you picture your dream apartment, this is it. Dark hardwood floors, lofted bedroom overlooking the living room with a spiral staircase to get up there. Bookshelves and windows from floor to ceiling. All overlooking Central Park.

"This is beautiful," you tell the owner who let you in.

He smiles a perfect, porcelain smile at you and nods, "But we're having a baby soon and it's not exactly child friendly."

You nod, "I can see a place like this going fast." You and your mom continue to look around and the more you see, the more you love. "Especially in this condition."

"That's good because I need it moved fast," he explains, "We just bought a house in Richmond."

You take in the space. You can already think of what you're going to put in the listing. This is an easy, very lucrative sell. You're going to make a killing and since you don't pay rent or much of the food or utilities since it's automatically withdrawn from Rachel's account, it's mostly play money. You're going to sell this and you're going to do something really, really nice for Rachel.  
You relax with your mom the rest of the day and have the papers sent over to the loft owner committing the apartment sale to you. You feel better that you have a huge listing that's exclusively yours. It makes it easier to enjoy the rest your day with your mom.

When you return to your apartment, lugging around your purchases, you find that Steve, Eliot, and Rachel standing around the kitchen discussing what they're going to do for the rest of the day. Your mom takes all the bags to your room and you pit stop by the refrigerator to get some water before starting to go after her.

"Quinn, may I have a word?" Steve asks, leaning on the kitchen counter as you walk past him, head ducked.

"Oh boy," escapes your mouth and you rub your forehead. You blush because you know he heard and is not laughing. You quickly nod and follow him into the living room.

Once you're both seated, he takes a deep breath, "I wanted to apologize for my behavior yesterday."

"It's okay," you wave him off, hoping that that is all.

He shakes his head, "She's our little girl. She's the light in our lives and when she told us you were moving in with her and had confessed that…" he glances over his shoulder to make sure no one else is listening, "You're in love with her it threw us. We like to think we're a couple of open minded guys," he pauses and you both chuckle, "But anytime anyone says that to her, we take it with the utmost seriousness because those words can be terribly destructive if not seen as so. Rachel gets, as you know…excited. Really, really excited." You smile because she does. She gets overly excited about the mail coming or that you put two vegan cookies in container for her to take with her to eat on the way to her show.

He smiles at your smile and it makes you less nervous. That is until his face gets serious again, "We were a little skeptical about this. You suddenly move in with her and then you're in love with her." He shrugs, "It seems a little sketchy."

You nod. That's understandable.

"But when she tells us how you cook for her and take care of her and make sure she make it everywhere on time," he smirks and lowers his voice, "About that getting her places on time, I'm going to need the trick you use because I cannot get Eliot anywhere on time." You both laugh before he goes on, "Anyway, I just wanted to let you know that Eliot and I both sleep easier at night knowing that you're here for her and I personally wanted to thank you."

You're not quite sure what to say. You start to speak a few times before closing your mouth. Finally you settle with, "It's not a problem."

He pulls you into a one armed hug, "You don't have to be nervous Quinn. Now this David character…I'd like a word with him."

You laugh. You don't add that you'd like a word with him too.

A few hours later, after talking in the kitchen with everyone, Rachel leads a parade into the piano room. You stay in the kitchen to make dinner, but tell her that she needs to play loud enough for you to hear.

Once you have a few minutes alone just sitting at the table, you get to cooking. You need feel the need to impress Rachel's dads with your culinary skills now that they trust you with her wellbeing. You smile as soon as the song she sings makes it to the kitchen. The weekend is halfway over and it seems like smooth sailing from here on out.

Once you all sit down to a delicious vegan dinner that your mom is skeptical about at first, the conversation flows easily.

"How about after this we all go for a walk?" Rachel offers between bites.

"Actually I'm going to take Quinn out to make up that I wasn't here for her birthday," you mom smiles at you. Your eyes sink to the table and you purposefully avoid looking at Rachel.

"Wait when was her birthday?" you can feel Rachel's eyes on you and you feel a blush creep up your cheeks.

"About a week after she moved here," your mom sets her fork down and looks at you, "You said you spent your birthday relaxing with Rachel."

"I did," you shrug. It's not a lie. You did spend your birthday with Rachel.

"Quinn Fabray!" Rachel's voice is stern and it practically forces you to look at her. Her eyes soften when she catches yours, "Why didn't you tell me?"

"It's not a big deal," you sigh, "It's just a birthday."

"It _is_ a big deal," Rachel frowns, "So clear out your Friday night oh wait, not this Friday." She furrows her eyebrows, "When is that benefit I'm singing at?"

"Friday." You state.

She thinks for a moment, "Regardless we're having your birthday Friday. The benefit doesn't start until late. So clear out Friday."

"Rachel I-"

She cuts you off with a look. A look that says you're in trouble and you're not going to get out of trouble until you appear at whatever she's planning for Friday. You roll your eyes. She mutters that she saw that with a slight smile and you chuckle as well as Eliot, Steve, and your mother.

After you go out for wine and dessert with your mom, you arrive home to find the apartment already shut down for the night. The lights are off and Rachel is sitting on the folded out couch in a short simple nighty. You let out a loose smile because you and your mom managed to put away a whole bottle of red wine.

You kisses your forehead and goes into your room. You fall onto the bed next to Rachel without removing any of your clothes. You mumble into the pillow, "Where are your dads?"

"They're in bed," she answers looking over her shoulder at you, "Are you drunk?"

"Maybe a little," you giggle into your pillow. Okay maybe a lot. Your mom started asking about your personal life and your wine started to disappear before your mom finally got the hint. You started asking about her personal life and the wine disappeared twice as fast.

She let's out a long sigh and turns off the TV, "I wanted to talk to you."

You finally decide that being lazy and not taking your clothes off is not worth the gross feeling you'll have waking up in clothes that touched inside of a cab. She push yourself off of the bed and stand still for a minute, regaining your balance before kicking off your jeans and shedding your jacket. You somehow manage to remove your bra without taking your shirt off and toss it over your shoulder.

You fall back into the bed and shimmy under the blanket, "Okay, let's talk."

Rachel lays down beside you. She's quiet for a moment, "Are you lucid enough for a serious talk?"

You really don't want to have a serious talk right now. You want to go to sleep. Go to sleep with your arms wrapped around her. But you figure that the cuddling tonight is a bad idea because you're in a shirt and panties and nothing else.

"I was talking to my dads while you were gone," she starts without waiting for your answer. "We talked about you a lot. They told me how hard it must be for you to be my roommate and my best friend with your current feelings. And it got me to thinking…Are you sure-Do you really love me or is it some strange form of idolization? Or gratitude?"

"Gratitude for what?" You appreciate that you're semi-drunk, but you're coherent enough to know that this talk is not going to be a fun one.

She looks embarrassed and shakes her head, "Never mind."

You smile into your pillow, "Gratitude for letting me live with you and sell your apartment and feeding me and keeping me grounded?"

"Mhmm," she murmurs, "I didn't want to sound like I was lording it over you or anything. Because I like helping you Quinn and when I help people it doesn't come with a price."

You shake your head, "Nope. Although I am grateful. It started a long, long time ago, but I think it's worse now because I can see how amazing you really are up close." You find it difficult that your closest confidant is the object of your unrequited love, but it's become easier now that she knows and that you're a little drunk.

She snakes her arms around your waist and squeezes you, "Thank you Quinn."

You roll over and she snuggles behind you, almost spooning you. Her arm stays around your waist as you settle into your pillow and close your eyes, ready to slip into a deep, deep sleep. "Is this too much?" she whispers, her warm breath hitting your shoulder.

"Nuh uh," you murmur. The wine and your lack of good sleep keep you in a daze in which you're not afraid to walk on a dangerous line. You always feel extreme ease or tenseness in her arms. Luckily, right now it's ease, which makes it easy to deflate into the bed and start drifting into sleep.

"Quinn?"

"Hmm?" you're half asleep already and her voice barely registers.

"Can I ask you something kinda personal? You don't have to answer." She sounds hesitant and you know you probably should be too.

"Okay." You take a deep breath and snuggle deeper into your pillow.

"Have you ever had...sexual thought about me?"

Suddenly you're not so tired anymore. Your whole body goes rigid. You remember your promise to always tell her the truth and who really doesn't have sexual thoughts about who they're in love with. You think fast and come up with an answer that hopefully won't make it too awkward for you two, "I you want me to be able to look you in the eyes again sometime in the next year, you won't make me answer."

She giggles and buries her face in your back, "I'm sorry. I'm just curious. I won't ask you the next question."

"You might as well, I'll be walking around with my eyes on the floor for the next three months anyway." It's sort of a joke, but not really. Tomorrow morning, when you're sober and there's light, you most likely will have trouble looking at her.

She pauses, "I'm pretty sure it's a terrible idea now that I think about it. I just find it strange that someone finds me appealing...sexually so, for so long."

"Well you're pretty damn awesome and you always have been." It slips out of your mouth almost on accident, but you want her to know that she's appealing even if it's only you.

She holds you tighter in your arms and rests her chin on your shoulder, "Thank you Quinn. It really does mean more than you know."

You decide to leave it at that and pretend like you're asleep before this conversation gets anymore awkward for you. She settles behind you, not letting go.

In the morning, you wake up to find that Rachel is gone. You start the coffee on the way to get the Sunday paper from the hallway. That's where you find her. She's on the phone pacing up and down the hallway. When you pick up the paper, she spots you and shoots a quick smile your way before her face becomes serious again and she focuses on the person on the phone.

You're sitting at the kitchen table doing the Sunday crossword when she walks back into the apartment and immediately asks, "How do you know when its time to end a relationship?"

"When you've been stuck in a loveless marriage for five years or when he's still sleeping with Santana while you're pregnant with his kid?" you shrug, not really thinking about it. You need a five-letter word for 'Calliope Relative'. Even if you had actually gone to a real university and had actually taken a mythology class, you probably wouldn't know this. 'Sofia' is five letters, but you're pretty sure they're not talking about Grey's Anatomy.

"I'm trying to be serious Quinn." She forcefully puts her phone on the counter.

Your head shoots up at the sound in her voice. She was annoyed that you're not really paying attention. You narrow your eyes, "Did David do something? Cause I can mess him up for you. I know for a fact that your daddy will help."

She lets out a chuckle before tracing the grain of the table lightly with her finger, "No…I just...I think we've plateaued. I don't feel that spark with him."

You narrow your eyes and tilt your head to the side, "Anymore?"

"Not really ever," she looks guiltily up at you, "I was hoping…hoping for a showmance I guess."

You smile sweetly at her, "You should probably stop doing that."

"I can't help it," she shrugs, "I'm a romantic."

You laugh and roll your eyes dramatically so she can see you.

"Oh please, you say you're not, but you're a romantic too," she states, "You're practically living a Cinderella story except Ethan is Cinderella and you're Prince Charming."

"Okay number one, I'm pretty sure I'm supposed to be offended in there somewhere," you try to hide your smile, "And number two, just because I'm dating does not mean I'm a romantic."

"Yeah whatever Fabray." She walks over to you and plops down in your lap, wrapping her arms around your neck.

Her close proximity makes you remember that conversation that you two had last night and you immediately look everywhere but her. She sees this and laughs as she musses your hair. "No need to be embarrassed Quinnie."

She playfully push her off of your lap so that she's standing next to you, "No one, but my mom is allowed to call me Quinnie."

"What are you going to do about it _Quinnie_?" Rachel sticks her tongue out.

You're about to get up and chase her around the apartment before Steve makes an appearance in the doorway. He eyes both of you with a slight smirk, "Do I need to separate you two?"

"Please," you add.

"Whatever," she turns to get down your coffee mug, "Like you could survive without me."

You and Steve laugh. You both know why that's funny. She pouts as she hands you're your coffee, "So I can't cook or clean very well…"

"Or at all," you mumble against the rim of your coffee mug.

"I'll have you know," she states as she gets down a mug for her and her daddy, "That I make awesome oatmeal and there has been no dirty clothes on the floor of my bedroom for almost a week."

Steve looks at you and rolls his eyes. You can't stop the laughter that erupts from your lips and this only makes Rachel pout more as she sits next to you at the table, "You both are being very mean."

"Okay honey, you know we love you," he smiles adoringly at his daughter, "But-"

"But what?" she demands, "I'm not all domestic and perfect like Quinn." You can see a little high school Rachel in her.

"Rachel," you say evenly, "Of all the people in the whole world, I am not perfect. Are we forgetting the repressed feelings and the whole torturing you in high school because I'd rather be mean to you than admit that I wanted to be with you?"

Her eyes are dead set on you and the vulnerability makes you swallow hard. "I um…I'm sorry Quinn. I didn't mean it. I just get…flashbacks to high school."

You nod understandingly and glance at Steve before you put her hand on Rachel's, "I understand." You want to kiss her cheek or her forehead or her lips, but the last one is a very bad idea and the first two you wouldn't dream of doing in front of her daddy.

Her eyes connect with yours and you can see that there's something she's not saying. Her eyes dart back and forth between yours like she's looking for something. You don't know what it is, but you hope whatever it is makes her happy.

Finally a small, shy smile grows on her face. She takes a deep breath and turns back to her coffee. It doesn't take long for Eliot to rise and your mom to join you. They all have to be at the airport soon so you all take turns getting ready before you all pile into your car.

As much as you love your mom, you're glad that it'll go back to being just you and Rachel. After you say goodbye, you hug both of Rachel's dads and your mom. Steve thanks you one last time before they all make their way toward security.

"Can you drop me by the theatre?" she asks quietly as you make your way back into Manhattan, "I think I need to have a discussion with David."

You nod. You hope this is the discussion that means their breaking up.

"Actually," she shakes her head, "Can we go to Brittany and Santana's first?"

You nod again. You're a little crestfallen. You were really hoping that she'd break up with him. Like immediately. But you settle for spending the rest of the day with your friends.


	12. Chapter 12

"Okay, the reason I seek counsel from you three who I consider to be my dearest, closest friends," Rachel stood in front of you as you all sat on Brittany and Santana's bed. You were laying between them and Brittany was playing with your hair while Santana glares at you and Rachel for interrupting what seemed to be an early afternoon delight.

"I am going to break up with David. We've plateaued. And the feelings for him I have are not strong enough to continue," she states. You mentally high five yourself. You're close to giving yourself a physical self five. You decide that since she's still talking you should probably listen. Rachel's pacing in front of the bed, "As you know, or as Quinn knows, I'm singing at a benefit concert Friday night for…"

"Doctors Without Borders," you tell her. You giggle. She's lucky that she has the money to hire all kinds of people to tell her where to be and why she's there.

"Oh yeah," she nods, "Anyway, it's like the Broadway equivalent of auditioning to sing at the Tony Awards in a few weeks. Since it is like auditioning, I need a date to the benefit. David is the perfect date to such a thing. He looks good in a tux and knows how to talk to reporters."

"But you want us to tell you that it's okay to take him on Friday and then dump his ass the next day," Santana finishes for her, getting more directly to the point.

Rachel stops her pacing and wrings her hands, her eyes bouncing between the three of you, "Is that horrible?"

"Totally," Brittany states.

Santana shrugs, "Eh." That earns her a disapproving look from Brittany over your head.

"Quinn?" Rachel asks quietly.

You can think of all kinds of reasons why it's wrong. You want to dump him immediately. You're ready to drive her to his apartment so she can do it now. But you know if you tell her to dump him now that she probably will and that's what's best for you, not necessarily for her. So you quirk an eyebrow, "You shouldn't ask me if you should break up with your boyfriend."

"I suppose not," she offers you a small smile before continuing. "I think that I'm going to have to differ to Brittany on this. No offense Santana."

"Eh," Santana shrugs again. She's not interested in this conversation in the least. She's humoring Rachel because of Brittany.

"Okay so," Rachel takes a deep breath, "I need a date to the benefit. Photogenic and articulate."

You mentally scan all the guys you know and let out a smile, "I know just the person."

She eyes you suspiciously, "Quinn, honey, I love you but-"

"I don't mean me," you playfully roll your eyes, ignoring the small sting her statement gives you, "It's a guy smarty pants."

"It's not like a totally horrible guy so she'll realize that you're the one for her," Brittany asks you with raised eyebrows. She gets off of the bed and her eyes scan the loose articles of clothing on the floor.

"You've been watching a lot of Kate Hudson movies haven't you?" you turn to Rachel and Santana who still look skeptical, "Hey guys, dating now. A super nice guy and I have a super nice guy for you if you'll stop being paranoid that I'm going to try to seduce you. And I'll have you know that if I did, it would be the best night...and next day of your life."

Her eyes gleam in the sunlight as she laughs and you love her a little bit more for it. The fact that she's not put off when you make a joke about sleeping with her is reassuring.

"I don't see what the big deal is," Brittany sheds her shirt and steps into the closet, "The Tony's are totally boring."

You're a little nervous that Rachel's about to be offended, but she calmly shrugs and says, "Sure they are on TV, but being there-"

"No half pint," Santana interrupts her, "She went last year."

"You did?" Rachel asks in complete disbelief, as Brittany steps out of the closet in a shirt that you're sure is Santana's.

"I just met the producer for my show and he told me I needed to go," she shrugs and looks at herself in the mirror. Vintage Sex Pistol concert shirts may not be Brittany's usual style, but she can rock it. She unabashedly lifts it to her nose to smell the collar and let's out a content sigh as she let's go and it drops around her neck.

Rachel looks at Santana, "Did you go?"

"Nope," Santana shook her head, "She took her _boyfriend_."

"Don't be mad S. We weren't together yet, but you're going this year," Brittany adds, flopping down on the bed next to Santana.

Santana nods and rolls on her side so that Brittany can snuggle into her easier. "I already have my dress and everything."

"Q!" Brittany looks at you with the most excited look on her face, "You can come with us! I can get an extra ticket. It'll be so much fun!"

You glance at Rachel who still looks a little jealous. She thoughtfully narrows her eyes at Brittany, "Are you nominated?"

"No. My show won't be ready until next season," Brittany let's out a carefree shrug. She gives Santana a quick kiss before jumping up off of the bed, "I'm going to call Thomas and see if he has an extra ticket." She glances at you, "Then we have find time to get you a dress."

You open your mouth to tell her that you'd rather just watch it on TV with a huge pizza and a gallon of ice cream because it's the first time Rachel's been out of the house for a whole night, but the elated look on her face stops you. You smile for her and nod, "Awesome."

Brittany claps and exits the room her phone in hand.

"I'm glad you're going Q," Santana sighs, "We can both gag while Britt and Rachel schmooze." She stretches out on the bed and arches her back.

"Santana," Rachel puts her hands on her hips, "Did you know that Quinn's birthday passed a few weeks ago, while she lived here and she didn't tell us?"

Santana propped her head up on the pillow next to you, "Really Q? I knew it was your birthday. I figured I just got it mixed up with one of B's gazillion cousins."

"I didn't want to make a big deal," you defend yourself weakly, "I just moved here and I wanted to keep it quiet."

"So she listened to me complain about my cast for a hour before I decided to go to bed," Rachel states, plopping down on the bed next to you. She automatically moves closer to you and you bend to accommodate her.

"That's not what happened," you quietly add, "You were talking about how you could never be in Cats because you're afraid they'd do something weird and coincidentally permanent to your hair. Then we talked about Hair the musical and then you told me that you'd rather die than be in a musical that was based on a movie."

"What a rousing birthday," Rachel frowns and looks up at you, "I'm still mad at you."

You smile at her attempt to look mad at you and bite your lip to keep from kissing her. So you distract her and yourself by turning to Santana, "Speaking of cats…"

She groans and buries her face in a pillow, "I've been looking. I really want to pick the right one, but I don't want to have to house train the stupid thing. All the smart ones are ugly and all the pretty ones are stupid. It's like Sweet Valley High for cats."

You and Rachel laugh. Badass med student Santana is stressing over finding the perfect cat for her girlfriend. She also just referenced a fifteen-year-old series, which you think you saw sitting in DVD version next to the couch in the living room.

"Anyway," Rachel looks pointedly at you before shifting her eyes to Santana, "We're going out before the benefit Friday to celebrate Quinn's birthday."

"I'm dzown," Santana answers, "That benefit thing is going to be boooring. I might as well be drunk."

"You're going to that too?" Rachel asks. You can tell she's jealous. She's dreamed of these events for years. And Santana was bitching because Brittany was dragging her to another one.

You take Rachel's hand and catch her eyes. You seem to be able to convey that you understand what she's upset about. She displays a soft smile before closing her eyes and resting her forehead on your shoulder.

They way you've grown comfortable with each other drives the knives of disappointment further into your heart. She'll cuddle with you and hold your hand without ever really being yours. And you're about to set her up with one of your coworkers. It feels so wrong, but what other choices do you have?

Brittany walks back in with a smile on her face and hops up onto the bed, standing over you and Santana, "We're so on for the Tony's."

After setting some time aside for dress shopping, you and Rachel set off for the theatre. She has a show to do and afterwards she's going to break up with him. She asks you to pick her up afterwards which is odd because she's usually content to catch a ride from someone else or take a cab. But you can never deny her so you promise that you'll be there as soon as the show gets out.

You go home for a while, trying to get the apartment back to it's original, pre-parents state. You fold up the couch and change all the sheets on both of your beds. As you're putting new sheets on her bed, you get frustrated with the fitted sheet that keeps popping off on different corners. You finally, with a frustrated huff, fall onto the bed face first and just lay there.

You've laid in her bed before, but this time you're alone and surrounded by her smell. You let it overtake you as tears gather in your eyes. It's not fair. You're dating a really nice guy who you really wish you were in love with, but you're not. You're in love with her.

When you realize what time it was, you get angry with yourself for breaking down. You wash your face and grab your keys. You need to go pick up Rachel.

You pull up to the back of the theatre and she's standing there, waiting for you. She looks depressed and it breaks your heart. As soon as she get into the car and is buckled up, you take off. After a few minutes of silence, you put your hand on top of hers that is resting on the middle console between you, "Rach, what's wrong?"

Out of the corner of your eye, you can see her look at you before removing her hand from yours, "It's nothing."

"Did you break up with him?" you ask, parking on the street in front of your apartment. You finally look fully at her.

She purposefully nods and gets out of the car without another word. You follow her into the elevator and wonder what's wrong with her. If David did this to her, you'll strangle him.

Once inside your apartment, you grab her hand to stop her from walking straight into her room, "Rachel." She turns to face you with a deeply thoughtful look in her eyes, "What's wrong? Did he say something?"

She once again extracts her hand from yours, "He just…" She deeply sighs, "He said –told me…" Her eyes drop to the floor before tentatively looking at you, "That I…" She gives up and sighs, avoiding looking at you, "Never mind. I'm just going to bed."

"Was he mean?" you ask. You have to know. You can see that's it's painful for her right now, but if he was mean to her you're going to do something about it.

She forces a smile, "No he wasn't. He just made me think about some things." She bites her lip before adding, "I'm just going to go to bed."

You figure she'll be in a better, more talkative mood tomorrow after some rest. You nod, "Okay. Goodnight."

"Goodnight," she mumbles and makes her way to her bedroom, closing the door. She totally forgot your usual goodnight hug. Something is really off with her and it worries you all night.

So when you get up the next morning, you're exhausted, but you quickly make your way to the kitchen to start the morning coffee. When she doesn't come out of her room by seven thirty you get ready for work. You make her some breakfast and set it on the table. You leave her coffee mug next to the coffee machine for her to use when she wakes.

You walk to her bedroom door and listen for any movements. When you don't hear anything you let out a long sigh. You really hope she's okay. You've never really seen her this down. So you leave her a note on the refrigerator and make your way to your first appointment of the day.

Your day drags on and on and on. You never really get the chance to call Rachel before she has to be at the theatre so when you get home, you stay awake until she gets home.

When you hear the front door open, you stand up and meet her in the kitchen. She looks exhausted as she rummages in the refrigerator, not even noticing you.

"I got take out," you quietly state, not wanting to scare her, "It's in the oven."

She turns and looks at you. You don't know what's wrong with her, but she just stares at you. You can't even tell what's wrong with her. You don't know if she's mad or sad or just tired so you make your way over to her. That sends her moving in the opposite direction. She opens the stove and retrieves her dinner. "Thanks." Her voice is so soft you can barely hear it. She walks out of the kitchen and into her room, closing the door behind her.

You have to follow her. You have to know what's going on because it's killing you. You knock on her door, something that's so strange to you because she never closes it.

"C'min."

You open the door and find her sitting on her bed with the open box in her hand, not really eating it. You move into her room and sit on the bed, but not too close to her because it seems she's been trying to stay away from you, "Rachel, what happened? I'm really worried about you."

She sets her chopsticks in the white box and place it on the nightstand, "I'm sorry Quinn. I just…he made me think about…" She huffs, giving up on what she's saying, "I don't want to talk about it. I'm just really tired okay?"

You take the hint and stand up, "When you want to talk about it, you know where I am okay?"

She looks up at you with a pained smile on her face, "Thanks Quinn."

The next day isn't any better. You get away on your lunch break to go home and pick up her favorite lunch on the way home. When you find her, she's watching some old movie that you've never seen before so you sit next to her and hand her the food before settling back into the couch. You move your arm like you always do so that she can cuddle into your side. However, she stays curled up on her side of the couch, absently eating her food and staring at the TV.

You give up on trying to get her to talk, knowing that she won't open up before she's ready. So you go back to work, ending your day by watching another movie with her while she's sitting on the other end of the couch. At least this time she asked if you wanted to watch it with her. This goes one for the next two days. You've taken to reading in your room because it's starting to frustrate you that she won't talk or even let you touch her and you want to give her some space. You're starting to think that it's you and not David that's upsetting Rachel. It hurts to think that.


	13. Chapter 13

"I'm going to watch 'Desk Set' if you want to come watch it with me," her voice is soft, drifting in from the doorway, Thursday evening.

You're laying on your bed propped up by a bunch of pillows, halfway into a book you picked up on the way home. You glance at her over your book. You can't sit on the couch next to her, not touching her and wondering the whole time what you did to drive her away. "No thanks."

She lingers in the doorway. She looks nervous, pulling at her off the oversized t-shirt that's hanging off her shoulder. You try to ignore it so you sigh and turn back to your book.

"Quinn," she says a little more quietly, "Are you mad at me?"

You look up from your book, sitting up a little more. Her bangs have fallen into her eyes and she looks anxiety ridden. She's finally talking to you so you want catch everything, "Why would you think that?"

"You spend more time in your room than you do in the living room...more that usual." She crosses her arms and kicks at the corner of your rug.

"Why should I stay in the living room when there's nothing to do? You barely talk to me anymore," it has a bite to it and you can't stop it. You don't want to. You're trying to provoke her.

She takes a deep breath and slowly makes her way to the bed. "I'm sorry." Her voice is shaky and as much as you want to stop yourself you turn to look at her. She lays down on your bed, staring at the ceiling, still not getting close to you.

You have to ask, "Are you like...disgusted by me?"

"What? No Quinn absolutely not," she props her head up and looks at you.

"But you stopped..." you set your book down on the nightstand, "You don't hug me anymore or like when we watched movies you'd lay on me or we'd hold hands but now...you won't even touch me."

She looks a little surprised by what you say, but realization washes over her. You're not sure what she's realized, but her lips press together and she swallows. You try to hold her eyes, but movement at your waistline steals your attention. Her hand is slowly creeping toward your body, before resting on your hip. Immediately her thumb starts stroking a sliver of skin that is exposed by your skimpy tank top. You close your eyes because the action has turned you on a lot more than it should. As you're forcing your eyes open, you find that she's moving herself toward you, her body pressed against your own. Your legs tangle together and your heart is pounding. This is a horribly wonderful dream. It's got to be. This cannot be real.

She licks her lips and you can see that her eyes are tracing yours. Your hands have yet to move from your sides. You can't seem to move at all.

Her hand leaves your hip to move to your cheek. She tenderly caresses your face, her eyes flickering up to yours. You're completely on your back now and her torso is on top of yours, the ends of her hair brushing against your shoulders.

Her head moves down until her parted lips are almost touching yours. You're breathing the same air and you feel like you can't get enough oxygen.

Finally the wires in your brain connect again and your hands move. They move to her upper arms, keeping her from moving closer. You shake your head, trying to shake out the daze her proximity has put you in. You slide out from under her and sit on the edge of the bed next to her, "Rach-wha-what was that?" you ask. You're not sure she heard you because she's staring at where you were just lying, slowly tracing her lips with the tip of her finger.

You're not sure why you're angry with her. Maybe because she knows that you have deep feelings for her and she almost kissed you, knowing that she can't reciprocate. She gives you hope only for you to realize that there's no chance.

"Rachel!" you bark, jerking her out of her trance. You need to her explain. You need her to tell you that she tripped and her lips just almost happened to touch your own before she could catch herself.

Her eyes shoot to you. They're watery and shimmering in the lamplight. She looks frightened and your chest immediately gets tight, disliking that she feels like that. When she blinks and looks away a few tears run down her cheek. "I-I didn't-I don't…" She keeps her head down and slinks off of your bed. She practically runs out the door muttering, "Sorry. I'm so sorry."

When she disappears from your room, you immediately feel guilty. You didn't mean to make her cry. You just wanted to know why she felt the need to torture you. You decide to go apologize when you hear the front door open and close. With a huff you sit on the bed.

You knew that eventually your feelings for her would get in the way of your friendship. You just wished it wasn't so soon. You finally decide to take a shower. She probably won't be back until after her show tonight anyway. You need to wash the feeling of her breath and hands on your face and body off before you become addicted.

Once the warm water hits your skin your shoulders slump and you run your tongue over your lips. You can still feel her breath on them and something inside tells you that no matter how much you try to wash it off it will always be there. You smile in spite of yourself and lean back against the cold shower wall. It was amazing. You felt weightless. And it was more than you ever thought anything could be and your lips didn't even touch.

When you get out of the shower, you get dressed to go to Santana's apartment and are surprised to find Brittany there as well. You're about to leave, giving them their alone time, but Santana pulls you inside, seeing how upset you are. You're sure you look a hot mess. You had put your wet hair up and had thrown on jeans and a t-shirt covered by a red sweater.

"What's up Q?" they sit you on the couch between them. Brittany takes your hand and Santana leans close to you.

You explain everything starting on Monday up until today and what just happened.

"Wow," Brittany whispers.

Santana just stares hard at the coffee table, processing. Finally she looks to you, "Do you wanna stay here tonight?"

You slowly nod. It's probably for the best. You need to think about what you're going to say to her and she probably needs to as well. Tomorrow will be an interesting non-birthday day.

Brittany gets up to get some ice cream so you can all have a bad movie night like you used to do in high school. Santana grabs the movies and sticks one in the DVD player. When she plops down on the couch next to you she asks, "Are you still going tomorrow night?"

You nod. You already have the ticket Rachel procured for you and the dress you bought for the occasion. And it's not like you'd ever miss Rachel sing by herself, "Are you?"

"Might as well," Santana shrugs, "I have a dress and Brittany's boss dropped two grand on the tickets. And most importantly, Brittany wants to go."

You attempt a smile at her and add, "That's the only reason you need."

She grins as Brittany walks back into the living room carrying two tubs of ice cream with three bowls and spoons on top with chocolate syrup and other toppings under her arm. Santana helps her out and takes some of the things from her.

Brittany and Santana cuddle up together, sharing ice cream and being grotesquely adorable in general. You eat enough ice cream to make yourself feel a little nauseous and then excuse yourself to go to bed. Brittany makes sure your comfortable and tucks you in, much to your amusement. She kisses your head and pauses at the door to turn off the light, "Nighty night Q."

"'Night B," you call back.

The next morning, you wake up and make the girls breakfast before they both reluctantly run out to door. After Santana's class, she tells you that she's going to take you out and still do the birthday thing because she's still pissed at you for lying to her, but she says so with a smile.

You're sort of looking forward to it. What you're not looking forward to is the benefit tonight. You feel like you need to talk to Rachel first, but you don't know if that's such a good idea. She sings best when she's emotional, but you don't want to emotionally cripple her for the night. You want her to have a good time. Luckily, since she hasn't been talking to you much you didn't actually set her up with that coworker of yours. So you sit on their couch and wait for Santana to get back, trying to decide what to do at the benefit.

When Santana gets back, she takes you to your favorite lunch place before going to get a hair trim and style as well as get your nails done. By the time you finish at the salon, it's time to get ready. You run by your apartment to grab your dress, slightly depressed that Rachel isn't there. But when you get back to Santana's apartment, Brittany is already there, freshly showered and in her underwear with three large curlers in her hair.

"Baby you are so hot," Santana laughs and kisses Brittany before hopping in the shower.

Brittany oohs and ahhs over your dress before guiding you into your bathroom to get ready. After you've showered, done your hair, and applied your makeup and finally slipped into your dress, you smile at yourself in the mirror. You're pretty damn hot.

But as you look in the mirror with your hand on your hip, your eyes zero in on your hand that's on her hip right where Rachel's was last night. A chill shoots through you body and your eyes flutter closed. You know that she was about to kiss you. You just don't know why. Maybe she was testing you. Maybe she wanted to see if you could really control yourself around her. Maybe she wanted to know what it was like to kiss another woman. Maybe she was just caught up in the moment. She watches all those stupid romance movies. And maybe she was possessed by a poltergeist that totally has a thing for blonde divorcees. You roll your eyes. That's just as probable as her discovering some deeply seeded feelings for you that she's repressed since high school. You can hear her voice in your head _Do I repress anything?_. Nope. No she doesn't.

It was probably a poltergeist. Just your luck right?

You start to get nervous as you ride to the theatre where the benefit is being held. Brittany hasn't let go of your hand since you left her apartment and Santana has been watching you with a studious eye. You assure them that you're fine and that whatever happens tonight, you'll be fine.

However you start to personally doubt that when you see her near the front doors of the lobby. She's talking to a few other people that you don't recognize. They seem to enjoy her company, but you can tell that she's not in it. Her eyes are vacant and her usual hand gestures absent.

Santana thrusts a glass of champagne into your hand. You wrap both hands around it because when it's in one, you can visibly see the liquid rippling in the glass as your hand shakes. You quickly down it so Brittany will stop worrying over you and Santana will start talking and stop staring.

After watching her from a distance for a while, you see her excuse herself and disappear backstage. You check your phone. The music is about to start and people are about to take their seats. You need to clear the air so she can give a performance she can be proud of and one that will give her a fair chance to sing at the Tony Awards. It's her dream.

"I'm going to go talk to her," you tell Santana and Brittany who haven't left you side all night. You know they'll try to stop you so you take off before they can. You slip backstage with disturbing ease. You find her in a dressing room labeled with her name on a piece of laminated paper. You knock on the door and her quiet voice answers, "C'min."

You take a deep breath and open the door. She's sitting at a vanity looking at herself in the mirror. She has to brush her hair away from her face to look at you but when she does she completely freezes. She opens her mouth to speak, but closes it again. Her shoulders slump, "Quinn, I-"

She's interrupted by the sound of running coming toward you both. You move out of the doorway and into the dressing room, subconsciously and pretty much consciously ready to protect her. However, David slides to a stop on front of the doorway a huge smile on his face. He strides to Rachel, completely passing and ignoring you, "She's here."

"What?" Rachel blinks a few times trying to keep everything straight in her head.

"Barbra." he leans down so that he is eye level with her.

"Barbra?" she asks, breathlessly.

He nods, his smile widening, "Barbra."

Rachel's breathing gets shallow as she whispers, "She's here. She's going to watch me sing. I'm going to sing for _Barbra_." You're a little worried because she seems like she may be starting to hyperventilate.

David drops his hands with a grin on his face and take a deep breath, "She's going to watch you sing."

Suddenly, Rachel's eyes turn to one of a trapped animal. Probably a squirrel. You know something small and cute with big eyes and…well the animal doesn't matter. What matters is that she's panicking. You take a step toward her, just in case she faints.

Her eyes shoot from David to you. You can tell that she's shaking. A look of sheer panic taking over. "I...She's...Quinn...I...Singwithme."

It's your turn to blink to get your head straight, "What?"

She moves from the vanity and stands in front of you putting your hands on her forearms, "I need you to sing with me. I-I can't do it by myself."

"Wha- I can't. I don't sing." You automatically shake your head, "Oh no Rachel... I..."

"Quinn please? She's out there and she's going to see me sing. This is like….I can't even….words, words I don't have words," she takes a step forward and takes your hands, "I get goosebumps when we sing together and I... Need this. I need goosebumps because Barbra's out there watching and if I go by myself I may…I don't know if I can go on."

You swallow. You know there's something deeper at work here and if it weren't for that you would have held out longer. You can actually see the need in her eyes mixed with the pleading and the desperation. You nod. Not like you can tell her no anyway.  
She let's out a small, relived smile and turns to David. "I need you to go tell that stage manager that we need another microphone and then record Barbra's reaction with your phone," she instructs David, "Don't be obvious though and send it too me as soon as the song is over. And if you get caught...you're on your own."

He quirks an eyebrow, but nods before talking out. He shoots you a smile and a wink, "Break a leg."

Her arms wrap around you as he leaves. Her head rests on your chest, "Thank you so much Quinn. I couldn't do this without you."

You hold her loosely against you and look up at the ceiling. You really need to talk, but at the moment you're talking yourself down from stage fright. You haven't performed since high school unless you count that karaoke bar that Rachel loves. After three deep breaths, you ask, "What are we singing?"

The stage manager has you standing on opposite sides of the stage. You can see her standing in the wings wringing her hands. When she finally spots you, her give her a reassuring smile. That seems to be all she needs. She holds her head high as the music starts. You take a last breath and step onto the stage. You sing the first few lines with a smile because none of these people know who you are and you find that stage familiarly comforting. Finally right before Rachel steps out, you hold your arm out toward her and announce, "Ladies and Gentlemen, Rachel Berry."

That wasn't part of the plan, but when the crowd goes wild and she steps onto the stage, her whole body glows. You know she needed that. She needed that confidence boost and you gave it to her. The band has to play an extension to the verse because she can't sing over the crowd. Finally when they calm down she continues with the song.

As you sing with her, a song from your high school days that wounded both of you, you see tears shimmer in her eyes. You have to look away or you'll start to cry too and unlike her, you were never able to sing through your tears.

You can feel a cloud of sadness settle over the stage and you close your eyes to try to block it out. She hits her power note as you sing harmony. That's how it's always been. She goes for it and you back her up, ready to catch her if she falls.

When you open your eyes, you see her looking at you. The intense stare almost makes your knees buckle. There's something different in her look and it shots electricity up your spine. You have to look away as the song winds down. When the audience erupts you force a smile, keeping your eyes away from her. When you feel you've accepted enough, you turn on your heel and quickly walk off the stage.

You don't stop walking until a hand on your arm forces you to turn around. "Jezus Q. I've been calling you for like ten minutes. Where the hell are you going?" You finally realize that you're outside the theatre and across the street. It's a small wonder you didn't get hit by a car.

"I don't-" the tears from earlier gather in your eyes and you try to swallow them, looking to the sky for help, "I can't do this."

"Do what?" She asks quietly, placing one of her hands on your crossed forearms.

"I love her," tears make their way down your cheeks, "I really, really, really love her..." You sink onto a bus bench, "She's so beautiful when she sings and she's in so much pain and I don't know why. Why me? I was doing okay not really loving anyone."

You can tell that Santana doesn't know what to do as she sits next to you so you just lay your head in her lap. That gets her to moving. Her hands start to move through your hair at a comforting pace.

The rumble of a bus pulls to a stop in front of you. You feel her pull you to your feet. You barely register that she pays the driver and you two are now sitting on the back of the bus. You're still leaning on her, but now your eyes are out the window.

After a few stops, Santana gets up and leads you off of the bus by your hand. You cross a street and she stops at the front doors of a church. She pushes open the massive wooden door and waits for you to step inside before she follows you. You mention, "I didn't know you were religious." You look at the obviously Catholic cathedral with its vaulted ceiling and colorful stained glass windows.

"I'm not," she crosses herself, "Most of the time." You follow her to the middle of the church before she sits down in a pew. There are a few other people scattered about the room and a hobo sleeping in the back.

You look up at the ornate ceiling and the empty space above you. You feel so small and so helpless.

After a few minutes Santana asks, "What did she say?"

"Nothing. We were about to talk about it but David ran in and told her that Barbra was in the audience." You offer with a sigh.

"Barbra?"

"Streisand."

Santana nods, "Oh yeah I totally saw her in the can. She told me she liked my dress. I would have gotten her autograph for Berry but I had to pee."

You couldn't help but smile. Only Santana could meet a Broadway legend and only think about her bladder. "Anyway she freaked out and begged me to sing with her. Then after we were done I freaked out and now I'm here."

Santana nods, "Okay so what are you going to say to her?"

You shrug, "No idea."

"Why was David there? Are they still like friends?" your friend asks.

"No idea," you repeat.

A priest walking over shuts Santana up. He smiles kindly at you both and sits in the pew in front of you. His hair is gray and his smile is kind. "Hello Santana."

"Father," she nods.

He smiles at you, "I'm Father Tyson."

"Quinn," you feel awkward introducing yourself to him. You haven't been to any church since your wedding and you feel like he can tell that just by looking at you.

"Anything I can help with?" his eyes shift smoothly from you to Santana.

"I think I got it," Santana tells him with a confident nod.

He nods back, taking the hint. He slowly rose, "How's Brittany?"

Santana can't stop a smile, "She's doing well."

He mirrors her smile, "Good. I'll meet you in the confessional."

Santana sighs and whines, "Tonight?"

He chuckles, "Will you come back this week?"

"Yeah," she huffs.

He nods to both of you, "Peace be with you."

You watch him walk off before turning to Santana. "What was that?"

"Sometimes I come here because it reminds me of the one in Lima," Santana explains, "I just come here to think. It's quiet except for the annoying priests trying to drag me to the confessional. I mean do I really look that sinful." She glances down at the cleavage protruding from her dress, "Well tonight's an exception. Anyway, sometimes I just come here to clear my head."

"How does he know Brittany?"

"She came with me a couple times," Santana leans back in the pew, "Sometimes if I'm really upset and I won't talk to her, she'll drag me down here."

You look up at the stained glass window behind the altar. You're sure it's beautiful when the sun is shining. You don't take your eyes off of it as you add, "I'll wait for you if you want to go to confessional."

She smirks, "I better wait for one of the younger priests. I've been particularly bad since the last time I was here and I wouldn't want to give Father Tyson a heart attack."

You can hear him chuckle from the isle next to you. When you look at him, you see that Santana is smiling and was apparently joking. He touches her shoulder, "I believe after your last confession, that I've heard everything."

He walks off and you have to ask Santana what she did. She tries to squash a smirk, "It had something to do with a pig heart and an intern at the hospital that called me an idiot. I'll just leave it at that."

You rest your head on her shoulder, "Where's Britt anyway?"

"She's still at the benefit I guess," she puts her arm around you, "I was already backstage when you were done singing. She'll be fine. A bunch of her friends are there. I'll call her later." She gives you a gently squeeze and waits a few seconds before asking, "Do you think you can handle living with her anymore?"

You nuzzle into Santana's neck and close your eyes, wishing the whole world away. "I don't know San. This is all so fucked up."

You feel her cradle your cheek with her free hand. "You know you're always welcome to stay with me and Britt. We'll figure this out Q. Pinkie promise."

There are a few small tears running down your cheek, but you smile and sit up, catching her eyes, "Pinkie promise."

She let's out a sad smile and forces your head back to her shoulder, "Shut up. I live with Brittany."

You're happy that you have Santana and Brittany. They're great friends. But as you sit there in Santana's arms, you remember what Rachel's feel like around you and that makes you miss her. How are you going to be able to talk to Rachel without bending to whatever she wants? How are you going to be able to stand up for yourself? You sigh and hold onto Santana, hoping to absorb some of her fiery demeanor.

After a few more minutes, you tell Santana that you're ready to go home. You need to suck it up and face Rachel. You need to. For your own dignity and sanity.


	14. Chapter 14

You quietly open the front door and try to quietly close it, but when you get to the living room you find her sitting on the couch looking frazzled and drained. When you see her your hands go numb and you feel light headed. Maybe you should have waited a little while longer. Maybe you're not ready for this. You're sure you're not ready. All you want to do it turn around and run out the door. You want to go back to before she supposedly broke up with her boyfriend and just keep going like that.

"Oh thank god," she sighs and stands. She's immediately moving toward you.

You know she's going to hug you so you take a deep breath and a step back, holding your hand up to stop her advance, "I can't. Not right now. I thought that I could handle this but…"

"Quinn listen to me," she states, trying to keep your attention.

You shake your head and start to turn around, "No Rachel. I can't-"

You're cut off by her lips smashing into yours. You're brain is stunned, but your body is very quick to respond. Your fingers seek out her skin and find it on her cheeks. Her gentle hands are caressing your hips through your dress. But then you realize what's happening and push her away. "Damn it Rachel! Don't do that!" You yell with tears streaming down your face, "It's not right and it's not fair. You know how I feel about you and you just...take advantage of it when it suits you!" You storm into your room and start throwing clothes onto your bed before shoving them in the nearest suitcase you can find.

"Where are you going?" Her voice barely makes it to your ears.

You grit your teeth to keep from crying again. You're done with that. You're going to be mad now. You ignore her question and continue packing.

Her eyes are huge watery pools of brown, "Quinn don't leave."

"Stop it Rachel. God I'm such an idiot. How did I ever think this could work?" You move past her, bag over your shoulder. Your whole body is fighting the tears that you know are coming. Your hands are shaking. You knew she was capable of a lot of things, but trying to use your feelings for her to get her way? It hurt more than you can say.

"It can work." She pleads, "It is working. Stay, please!"

You turn to face her. She's bawling and you hand twitches because it wants to comfort her but you stop it. The set your jaw and state in a voice shaking so hard you can hear it, "What do you want from me Rachel?"

Her eyes are wide and panicked. You can tell she's trying to formulate the words that you want to hear. You shake your head and turn back around, making your way back to the front door, "Figure it out Rachel. I can't be a lovesick puppy following you around anymore."

"Don't leave," she rushes after you. "I need you."

Those words cause you to freeze and your heart to shatter. You look down trying to stop the fresh wave of tears. Her hand on your arm makes you open your eyes. "That's not fair." You whisper.

Her grip on your arm tightens, "It's true."

You take a long, deep breath, "I'm going to go." You can see her heart shatter through her eyes and tears pool again. You add, "I'll be back on Monday after work. We can talk and see if we can make it work." You know as much as it'd be easier for you to move out you can't. She's so deeply woven into your heart now that if you leave you'll bleed out.

Santana doesn't look all that surprised to find you at her front door with a suitcase under your arm. She silently lets you in and waits for you on the couch while you put your suitcase into the guest room. When you emerge, she looks up at you, just waiting to see what you'll do. You just walk over to the couch and sit next to her, falling into her arms.

Although Santana is a little weird about physical contact with people who aren't Brittany, she's been a rock for you these past few days. You're thankful for that. You start to tell her that, but she shushes you, continuing to hold you in a tight embrace.

"San?" Brittany's voice calls. You're surprised. You didn't even know she was here.

Santana tilts her head up and calls back, "Yeah?"

"Where are the towels?" your blonde friend's voice asks.

"I think there's one on the cabinet," Santana adds, "If not, the one I used is hanging up on the closet door."

"Eww, it's got Santana hair on it," Brittany says. Even from across the apartment you can tell she's smiling.

Santana glances down at you with a lazy smile before calling back, "You love my hair."

"I'm getting in the shower," Brittany's voice says.

Santana adds, "Hurry, we have to a guest."

There's no hesitation when Brittany calls back, "Hi Quinn!"

You chuckle a little and call back, "Hey Britt."

Brittany tells you both that she'll hurry and her voice disappears. You close your eyes and relax into Santana. She's warm it the warmth eases the tension out of your muscles. You figure there's not much you can do now. The ball is in Rachel's court.

"So," Santana finally starts talking, "I don't have anything to do this weekend. Studying is on hold because I don't have any tests for two weeks and our Dutch princess has _finally_ taken the weekend off, what do you want to do?"

"I want you two to go to a cabin upstate and have a good weekend," you tell her, "I'll stay here and watch TV and get fat."

She laughs and runs her fingers through your hair, "Q, we're going to stay here with you this weekend because Brittany and I have forever together to go upstate and your life is only in crisis like…six months out of the year."

You can't help, but laugh. It's sad though. She's pretty much right. Except that period between high school and New York. Living in Lima was easy. Finn did whatever you wanted to do. Remodeling your house was easy because Finn and Puck are both handy guys and they know how you want things done. You pined for Rachel from afar. Whenever Rachel is in your life, there's turmoil, but you can't help loving every second of it.

Now you're pining for her up close and although the money you're making now easily doubled, maybe even tripled since moving to New York, it hurts a lot worse here than it did in Lima.

You're so deep in your head, that you don't even realize how long you've been laying on Santana until a sweet smell envelopes you and a soft, warm weight is on top of you.

You smile at Brittany who had plopped down on top of you, fresh from the shower. Her hair is dry so you must have been thinking a lot longer than you originally thought. When Brittany kisses your head, you look up at her blue eyes and see her waiting for you to acknowledge her. When you smile at her she asks, "What do you want to do? It's like eleven thirty. We can go out or stay in or go to bed or go to Connecticut."

"Connecticut?" you ask.

Brittany shrugs, "I've never been there."

You smile again and glace up at Santana who is pleading with you with her eyes to say no to Connecticut. You turn back to Brittany, "How about we stay in tonight and talk about Connecticut tomorrow?"

"Awesome," Brittany lays her head on your chest, "Let's play poker."

Before you know it, you're all seated around the coffee table, money and cards all over it as well as Brittany's shirt. She had run out of money fairly quickly and decided that her clothes could be used as collateral.

Santana passes you a bottle of bourbon that you've all been sharing. You check your cards and then take a swig. Then you throw a three dollar bills into the pot.

"Damn Q," Santana says throwing her last three dollars in, "You're a fuckin' card shark."

You smirk, "What do you think I've been doing for the past five years in Lima?" Poker nights with Puck and his friends were definitely something you did enjoy in Lima. You tell Santana that.

"Puck misses you," Brittany adds as she takes the liquor from you.

You quirk an eyebrow, "Really?"

The blonde bobs her head, "I talked to him yesterday." You notice that Santana doesn't look too happy about that, but she tries to hide behind her cards.

"Maybe he could come up here," you offer, "Hang out with us. He hasn't been out of Ohio since high school."

Santana clears her throat and sends a pointed glare your way. You reply with raised eyebrows, asking her what her problem is. She just shakes her head and takes the liquor bottle from Brittany, taking a long drink. "Why don't we get a pizza?"

"Awesome," Brittany grins and gets up. She tosses her cards onto the table, "I fold." Brittany stands up, "I'll go order the pizza. What kind do you want Q?"

"It doesn't matter," you shrug. You're a little excited about eating a real pizza. You haven't had a non-vegan pizza in months.

Brittany skips off into the bedroom. As soon as she's gone, you ask Santana, "Why can't Puck come up here?"

"I don't even like her talking to him on the phone," Santana states, stripping off her shirt and throwing it into the pot.

None of you really discussed the value of a shirt in dollar bills. So you grab a handful of crumpled up dollar bills and toss them in as well. "So you're jealous?"

"When have I not been jealous?" Santana rolls her eyes, "I guess it's not a big deal if he stays with you."

"What if I'm staying here?" you ask, sadly.

She tosses her cards onto the table, face up so you can see what she has. "You won't be. This whole shit with Berry will come to a resolution and everything will be back to normal."

You show your cards and she pouts. "I do believe that a flush beats two pair." You gather up all the money as well as Brittany and Santana's shirts. You don't want to talk about your Rachel problem so you change the subject, "Why no Connecticut?"

Santana's eyes dart to the bedroom door with a paranoid panic. She leans forward to whisper to you, "Because we can get married there and she knows that we can get married there and if we go there, we'll get married there."

"So?" you ask in disbelief, "You're practically already married. You're talking about being with her forever. This is not the time for your commitment issues."

"It's not about me," she quickly sputters out, "My mom and Brittany's mom both made me promise that when we get married we're going to have a _real_ wedding. They wanted it in Lima, but I put my foot down on that. They don't want to pressure us into marriage, but even though we're not the most traditional couple, they want us to do this traditionally. They want us to get engaged first and then plan the huge wedding. They made me promise. It's was like two on one mom tag teaming."

"Then ask her to marry you," you whisper back, "She's your soul mate Santana and I don't even believe in that crap. Can you honestly see yourself with anyone else in the whole world? Better yet, can you stand her being with anyone else?"

"That's not the point," she hisses, "Why do I have to ask her to marry me? I think I've proven that I'm in this. Why can't she ask me?"

A slow, sly smile spreads across your face as you press your hand to your chest and coo, "Aww."

"Shut up," she narrows her eyes at you and sits up straight.

"Why don't you tell her that you want her to do it?" you ask, stacking all of your money into neat piles.

"Where is the romance in that?" she leans back against the couch, "Plus, I've been dropping hints for three months. And if you say anything to her about it, I swear to god Fabray, I'll kill you."

You laugh heartily. She knows you want to say something, but because she's threatened to kill you, you know she's serious so you won't say anything. Brittany comes prancing out of the bedroom with one of her infamous hats on. It was a cute baby blue fedora with a black band around it. She is wearing it with a crooked. She takes her seat on the floor, "The pizza guy will be here in fifteen minutes."

"Awesome," Santana shuffles the cards and deals a few more hands. A few more hands that win you more pieces of clothing. They're both in their underwear when there's a knock on the door. You pick up your stack of bills and make your way to the door.

Apparently the bourbon (or breathing) makes them frisky because as soon as you stand up, Brittany practically leapt up over the coffee table to tackle Santana onto the couch. You open the door and by the expectant look on the pizza guy's face, he's been here before after they've both been drinking. He looks from you to the occasional leg or flare of hair that shows up on the other side of the couch. You can hear their loud kisses and the moaning, starting to erupt. Then he looks to the wad of ones in your hand. You can't help, but smirk and shove enough money to cover the pizza at him, taking the pizza, "Eyes off. They're mine."

His eyes grow comically wide before you shut the door in his face. That totally just made your night. You walk over to them and contemplate dumping a bucket of ice on them. Instead you loudly clear your throat. Santana pulls away with a giggle as Brittany rolls off of her. Brittany hugs you and relieves you of the pizza.

You all sit down around the coffee table and eat pizza, drink and play cards until you're all exhausted. You start to go to the guest room, but Brittany drags you backwards into their bedroom where you fall asleep between then, sandwiched between your two best friends. Best friends that you're not in love with.

But as you fall asleep you wish you were falling asleep with Rachel. You drape your arm around Santana because she feels more like Rachel than Brittany does. But she's still not Rachel. You rest her hand on the curve of a sleeping Santana's hip and realize that it doesn't feel like Rachel's. You miss her and you don't want to miss her. You weren't supposed to think about her tonight, but you are. You bury your face in Santana's hair and pull Brittany's arms tighter around you, tears starting to seep out of your eyes.

The next day, you're the last one out of bed. You figure it's because you were the last one asleep. You can pretty much still feel the bourbon's grip on your body. You can also feel the dried tears still on your face. You don't want to move from the bed, and at this point it seems impossible. Your muscles aren't moving, not that you're trying too hard. This bed is nice. Not as nice as…no you're not going to think about her. You're going to enjoy your day of distracting Brittany and not think about… _her_. Today she doesn't have a name.

You look around without really even moving your head. It's light outside, but you're not exactly sure what time it is. You wonder where your phone is, but you don't care enough to get out of the bed.

After a few minutes, blue eyes peek into the room and eye you before being joined by a large smile and a lithe body with considerably more clothing on than she did when she went to sleep. Without speaking, Brittany walks into the room and lays down next to you gathering you up in her arms. You sigh and bury your face into her neck. She kisses your forehead.

"So," Brittany looks down at you with a grin, "Santana had to run to her school to get something. It's you and me for a while. I was going to go get you some donuts if you were still asleep and since you're not, we can go to breakfast together."

You smile at her. You love Brittany so much. She's always been like your sister. Your adorable sweet, over-affectionate sister. "Let's go have breakfast Miss B."

She steps into hers and Santana's closet to pick out something for you to wear. You find your phone under your pillow and find that you have a new text. When you open and read it, you smile. You're glad that Santana's not really at school. Hunting for a present for Brittany seems like a much better way to spend a Saturday. You text her back telling her that you'll be more than happy to keep her girlfriend company until she finds what she needs.

"Can I tell you a secret?" Brittany asks, over muffins at a bakery down the street.

You nod, thoughtfully chewing your blueberry strudel muffin. It's a really great muffin. "Of course."

She turns around and digs into her purse, "I got the hints. I heard you and Santana talking. It didn't really take that long to order the pizza last night." She pulls out a small purple box and ceremoniously hands it over to you.

Your mouth literally drops open. And when you open the box, your mouth drops open even more. It's huge. Huge compared to the one you had when Finn asked you to marry him. Huge compared to anything anyone in Lima ever had. It was huge compared to ones you'd see celebrities wear in magazines.

"Wha-what…" you trail off, looking from the ring to her and back.

She lets out a bright smile, "The smaller diamonds were from some jewelry my mom gave me a long time ago that I never wear. The big one," she pauses, eyeing the large square jewel in the middle of the band, which you can only assume in platinum. "is new-ish."

"New-ish?" you ask, closing the box and sliding it back to her.

She picks it up and opens the box, eyeing it, "I bought it a long time ago. Well like two months ago after she'd started dropping hints like leaving magazines open to certain pages, and watching those wedding shows on TV." She lets out a sly smile, "She's doesn't really want people to know, but she wants all that romance movie stuff. She likes it when I bring her flowers and stuff."

You smile at the blonde. You know this. You're glad that she does too. Santana's had a rough go at life since you've known her and she deserves someone who loves all her weird little eccentricities. Like that she tries to be a complete badass while going out to find her girlfriend a kitten.

You furrow your eyebrow, "Why haven't you given it to her?"

"Everything has to be totally perfect," Brittany looks over the ring last time before snapping the box closed, "And I don't know how to make it perfect. I've been watching all those Kate Hudson movies trying to figure out how to make it romantic and I…" she lets out a frustrated huff, "None of them are good enough."

You rest your chin on your hand and smile at her, "Britt." You wait for her to look at you before continuing; "You could ask her while she you're watching Desperate Housewives."

"Santana hates that show," Brittany deadpans.

You go over what you just said and backtrack. Then you rephrase, "You could be doing laundry together and you could ask her to marry you and she'd love it because she loves you."

"I love her too," Brittany firmly nods. She is quiet for a moment, "Can you help me? I still want to make it romantic for her."

You smile, "Of course."

After breakfast, Santana texts both you and tells you to meet her back at the apartment. You grin. Apparently Santana has been scoping out this particular present for a while and just had to pick it up this morning.

Brittany grabs and extra muffin for Santana commenting on how she was always forgetting to eat. You're more excited about going back to the apartment than Brittany because you know what's waiting for her so you're dragging her all the way to her front door.

You walk in first and turn around because you want to see the look on her face. And it is a face that you'll always remember. The blonde froze in the doorway upon seeing Santana standing in the living room cradling a tiny gray kitten. It's dark stripes elongate as it stretches and yawns. Brittany walks over to her girlfriend and her new kitten. "Is it…ours?"

You can see the tears brimming Brittany's eyes when Santana nods. Santana beams and hands the kitten over to Brittany. "She's all ours."

You watch them have a moment over the kitten and decide to leave them alone. Santana catches your eyes and gives you a questioning look when you open the door. You just give her a gentle smile and slip out the door. She doesn't stop you.

You can't go home, but you can't stay there. They need their time. You want to give it to them because they're in love and they're your friends.

You walk aimlessly throughout the city finally hitting the edge of the island. The wind off of the water blows through your hair and whips it away from your face. It feels good. It's comforting. It blows away all thoughts of someone who doesn't have a name today. At least that's what you wish it was doing.

You can't help, but miss her. It's been all of fifteen hours since you last saw her and you miss her. You missed her last night while you were playing cards. You could see her playing, leaning over and peeking at your cards and giggling every time you catch her. You missed her this morning over breakfast. Her sleepy eyes and her messed up hair as she sips her coffee and mumbles an incoherent sentence when you ask how she slept. You miss her and it's only been fifteen hours.

You start walking again. This is when you realize where you are, your heart drops. You're standing in the lobby of your apartment building in front of the elevator. The up button is lit. You pressed it and didn't realize it.

"Quinn?"

You whirl around at the sound of your name and let out a long sigh when you see Ethan smiling at you with his work uniform on. He has a tool belt on and a tool box in his hand. His hair looks like he's run his hand through it a hundred times today and his charming lopsided smile is sweet and hopeful.

Ethan. You forgot about Ethan.

"Hey," his smile fades. "Are you okay?"

You glance at yourself in the reflective surface of the elevator doors. Your eyes are red and your cheeks are pink. Someone who really knew you would know you had been crying. Santana would know. Brittany would know. Rachel would know. _Rachel_ _would know_. But you didn't even know. You walked around Manhattan crying and you didn't know you were crying.

You force a smile, "I'm fine. It was just…the wind off the river. It always does this." You motion to your face.

He looks at his watch, "Well do you have time to go to lunch?"

Just as he asks the elevator doors open. The elevator is empty and you look inside. The elevator will take you up to her. You know she's up there. You just know. You can feel her. The elevator will take you there. If you get on the elevator, you'll do what she wants you to do. You'll be whatever she wants you to be, even if it breaks you.

You look from the elevator to Ethan and then at your feet. You close your eyes and after a long deep breath, you nod. When you look at him, you force another pained smile. You continue to not, trying to convince yourself as well as him, "Yeah, I have time."


	15. Chapter 15

"I didn't know you could sing," Ethan comments after you're both seated at a family style Italian restaurant a ten-minute cab ride away.

"What?" you're confused. How did he know you could sing? He wasn't at the benefit.

"I saw the video of you and your roommate singing online. You're really great," he offers a smile that seems like he hopes it's not creepy.

"Online where?" You ask, "The benefit website?"

"YouTube," Ethan takes a sip of his water before leaning on the table.

You furrow your eyebrows, "Are you serious?"

He pulls out his phone, "Yeah." After searching for a few seconds, he hands his phone over. You're watching yourself sing with Rachel on the stage. You can't take your eyes off of her face. She keeps looking at you while you're singing and you can see that you're actively avoiding looking at her. When you do, you quickly look away. When you watch the song end, you watch her face. She's looking at you, but you're looking at the crowd with your forced smile. When you bolt off of the stage she ducks her head from the spotlight and follows you. When the video ends you give Ethan his phone back.

"Quinn, what's wrong?" Ethan asks you with a very concerned expression.

You look him over and finally blurt out, "I'm in love with her."

"Her?" he asks, squinting one eye at you, "Who her?"

You point to his phone, "Her. My roommate. Rachel."

"Oh," he slowly nods, "How does she feel?"

You bite your lip and study him for a moment. "Why aren't you mad?"

"You never said anything about exclusivity," he leans back when the waitress sets his food in front of him, "And just because you're in love with her doesn't mean that you two are dating."

"You got that right," you sigh and look down at the pasta that was just put down in front of you.

"How does she feel?" he asks, taking a large bite of his food.

You sigh heavily, "I don't know. I keep thinking that she's developing….something more than friends, but…she's really affectionate all the time. It's hard to tell."

"Does she know?"

You nod, "I told her a while ago."

"How did she take that?"

"Really, really well," you spear a penne and stick it in your mouth, "Ridiculously well. I'd freak out if someone told me they're in love with me. Especially my roommate. Especially someone who tortured me in high school."

He sips his water before leaning on the table, "Torture?"

"That's a dinner story. Or a bar story," you state, "There's not enough time during lunch."

"We can go to dinner," he offers.

You're confused. "You still want to date me? Knowing that I'm in love with someone else? A girl someone else?"

He nods, "It's not often I get to date someone as beautiful and smart as you. Not to mention a good singer. I understand that if your roommate realizes that she should be in love with you too then I'll be dropped like yesterdays garbage."

You eye him, "Should be?"

"You're pretty great and from watching the video, you obviously have chemistry," he shrugs, "We've had two dates and you've known her since high school. I don't stand a chance, but you're pretty cool and I like getting to know you."

"Well, thanks," you nod.

After a few more bites, he adds, "So what happened on stage?"

"She almost kissed me before she went on. I showed up to talk to her about it," you state as evenly as possible, "And then she freaked out because Barbra Streisand was in the audience so she asked me to sing with her. Then we went home and she kissed me and I freaked out-"

"Wait, she kissed you?" he holds his hand up, "What did she say after that?"

"No-nothing," you state, "I ran out."

He gives you a bewildered look. He then startles you by shooting up out of his chair and dropping his napkin on the table. He pulls out his wallet and drops some money on the table.

You stand with him because you're completely lost, "What are you doing?"

"I'm getting you back to your place so that you can talk to her," he states taking one last bite of his lunch.

You try to shake all the non-necessary thoughts out of your head because they're stopping the necessary function, "Because she kissed me?"

"Chicks think kissing is a big deal. They don't do it unless it means something," he states. He takes your hand and pulls you out of the restaurant. It's probably a good thing you weren't all that hungry to begin with.

But after a cab ride, you stand froze in front of your building, looking up at the window that you're sure is yours. He's trying to pull you inside, but you're stuck in place.

"Quinn, what-?" he stops when he sees your face. There are tears in your eyes. He stands squarely in front of you, "What's wrong?"

You look at him. You're panicking again. Something you've become so good at. "What-what if she _does_ love me? What if she's _in love_ with me?"

"Then you'll be together," he smiles at you, putting his hands on your shoulders, "And you'll get married and live happily ever after."

He gets blurry because tears cloud over your vision. "But…I'm scared." You get goose bumps because the truth has finally been realized. You crumble into his arms. He comforts you by carefully holding you as you try to compose yourself.

When you finally do, you sniffle and wipe your eyes, "Okay. I'm okay. I'll be okay."

"So you're going to go talk to her?" he asks.

You look around and before he can say something else, you think about jumping back into the cab and going to back to Brittany and Santana's apartment. But that option is closed when the cabdriver drives away.

With a kind smile, Ethan guides you to the elevator and presses the button for you. Before you know it, you're face to face with your own front door. Ethan tries the knob and finds it open. Then he pushes the door open and pushes you inside before closing the door behind you.

The apartment is dim. There are a few lamps on and the curtains are closed. There's soft music playing in the background, but its slow and sad, adding to the depressing look of the place. You walk into the living room and see a mess of blankets on the couch. On the coffee table are sporadic clumps of used tissues and stacks of DVDs. This place is utterly depressing and you hope she's not here in this mess. So you call, "Rachel?"

You hear her bare feet on the hardwood floors. Her careful steps walk toward you. She looks like a mess. Her hair is put up in a fraying ponytail. She's in tight, black yoga pants and a charcoal grey sweatshirt that swallows her entire torso, all the way down to her knees. Her face is free from any makeup and her eyes are pink around the edges.

Her eyes light up when she sees you, but the rest of her face is blank, "What are you doing here? I thought you were coming back on Monday."

You take off your sweater, buying some time, "I-I was in the neighborhood."

"It seemed like you were having a good time with your boyfriend," she offhandedly mentions and walks toward you, stopping next to the couch. You swear she sounded a little bitter.

You're confused, "You were watching me?"

"No I wasn't watching you," she huffs and throws herself down on into the couch, "Well, I was…I was just… Are you ready to talk? Because I need to talk."

You nod and take a seat next to her, "I'm ready to talk." Suddenly, emotions are crashing down on you. You remember when she kissed you and the tingling you feel on your lips is still there.

"Good," she turns in her chair to face you. "Because I've done a lot of thinking, you know deep soul searching and Quinn I-"

"Rachel," you state firmly know that getting it out now is the only way you'll get heard. You're trying to keep composure. "Can I say something first?"

She looks wounded, but nods, signaling her agreement.

"I was mad. I was mad at you," You explain, struggling desperately to keep eye contact, "I opened up to you and I told you my biggest secret. You know how hard that was for me and you…you used it against me. I was trying to talk to you and you…you kissed me, knowing- _knowing_ that I'm deeply in love with you and that was wrong Rachel." You see that you have her rapt attention. She looks sad and regretful and her eyes are pools of tears. You swallow back you emotion and continue, "You can't just do that. I like- I love taking care of you and spending evening with you watching movies or listening to you play the piano. I just- I don't know if I can. It just…it hurts."

"Quinn, please. I can explain," she begs, leaning toward you, pure desperation in her eyes, "Please."

You're surprised when she waits silently for your answer. Normally, she'd just continue on after this. You're impressed with her restraint so you nod, signaling her to speak.

"I-" she takes a deep breath, "When I broke it off with David he said…he said that…he asked if I was breaking up with him for- for you."

You're stunned. "That's ludicrous."

"That's what I thought," she says, looking at her hands that are folded in front of her, "But he explained it. He…told me that I talk about you all the time and I get…giddy when I see your name on my phone and even when I was on a date with him, I'd talk about how you'd love the pasta or how you'd hate the movie we went to see." Rachel licks her lips and tentatively looks you in the eyes again, "and the more I thought about it…the more sense it made. A-at first I thought it was just that I've become dependent on you so I pulled away from you as you know. Then I tried to explain my jealousy over you dating Ethan. I told myself it was because you told me you're in love with _me_ and I didn't want you to be in love with anyone else. I wanted you to be _my_ lovesick puppy. I know it wasn't fair and it was really selfish. And by the way Ethan has never really been arrested." She ducks her head.

You can't help but smile at her lie. You know you shouldn't smile. You're trying to be objective with her after all, but you've been away from her for such a long time. Almost twenty-four hours now.

"And I don't know how to deal with those feelings. I've never known how to handle relationships well. You know that. The reason David and I worked so well was because even though I wanted to be in love with him, I wasn't. So instead of telling you about what was going on with me and potentially freaking you out, in the process scaring you off…I shut down and scared you off anyway. Which is a problem that my fathers pointed out during our four hour long phone call last night."

"You talked to your dads?" you ask, a little more anxious than before. Sure they'd entrusted you with her care, but now that this whole mess happened you have a feeling that even Eliot will read you the riot act.

She nods, "As well as a number of other people, but the most significant progress I made was with them." She takes you hand, "I didn't mean to scare you off Quinn. Honestly. You are the best friend I've ever had and I got scared. Frankly I'm quite terrified right now. This is new and unfamiliar territory for me. I'm sorry I handled it terribly."

"So you're saying that…?" you ask. You think you got the point of what she said, but you need the streamlined version to verify.

"I, at some point, without conscious knowledge of it, developed some…feelings for you," she confesses and her eyes shoot back to your joined hands.

You take a minute to digest what she just said. You bite your lip and shake your head. You're not sure you believe it. When you don't speak, she continues, a few tears actually sliding down her cheeks, "I'm really sorry Quinn. This is all so new to me."

You slowly nod. There was a time when feelings for her were new and confusing to you. "I-I understand."

She pushes a hopeful smile and fully picks up your hand off of the couch, "So should we-can we...try this?"

You take a deep breath and think it over before shaking your head.

"Wha-why not?" She asks, devastation written all over her face. Tears pool in her eyes again.

"Not yet," you tell her, squeezing her hand, "I've known for years that I've been in love with you. You've only thought that you love me for a few days."

Her eyebrows furrow, "What do you mean _thought_?"

"I mean I don't think you're sure about your feelings and I need you to be absolutely sure because if you're not..." you trail off, gesturing vaguely with your hand. You don't want to go down that road. You also don't want her doing something she can't undo without actually feeling what she thinks she does. You don't want her to get hurt.

She nods, "I understand. So what happens now?"

You think about taking your hand away from hers, but you just can't. "I'm coming home but no cuddling or hugging or sleepovers," you say and she looks crestfallen.

"You have to give me hugs," she turns your hand over and traces your fingers, like she's done so many times before, "I'm a hugger."

"One a day," you can't help, but acquiesce. You've been without her touch for long enough as it is.

"Five."

"Three."

"Fine," she huffs and crosses her arms and pouts, "What happens if I have a bad dream? I'm used to having somewhere to go."

You smile at her petulance, "I'll call Brittany."

"Santana won't be happy." She pouts, trying to weaken your answer.

"She knows what's going on. She'll understand." You lean back on the couch.

Rachel looks disappointed, "You told her?"

"Yeah. I was staying with them. I tell Santana everything. She's going to be pissed when I don't come back to her apartment tonight, but…I think I can handle being home." You offer an easy smile.

Rachel looks relieved. "Thank you Quinn." You take a long deep breath and she smiles back. After a short semi-awkward silence she speaks, "So…do you want to see what Barbra said while we were singing?"

You haven't really thought about it, but now that she brought it up, you're dying to know, "Yes! Please."

She giggles at your eagerness and scoots her chair closer to yours. She puts her phone between the both of you and leans close so that you can both watch the video.

You can't believe that Barbra freakin' Streisand liked your performance. She smiled the whole time and made a comment to the man next to her about Rachel. You both beamed with pride when Barbra nodded and said, "They're good, especially the little Jewish one."

"Oh my god that's so awesome!" you turn to Rachel. You want to hug her, but you clamp your arms down at her sides.

Rachel looks you over and stands, "Can I have one…celebratory hug?"

You stand with her and open your arms. What could it hurt? After something like that, strangers would hug, "This one's free."

She wraps her arms tightly around you and presses the full length of her body against yours. You feel her chest expand with a deep breath before she whispers, "I'm sorry Quinn. I guess you're the emotionally mature one now."

"That's a scary thought," You say into her hair, closing your eyes and letting the smell Rachel engulf you. You resist kissing her head.

She chuckles and pulls away, running her hands down your arms and stopping to hold your hands, "This'll work Quinn."

"I hope so," you force a tight smile. You desperately want this to work. You want this to work more than anything.

"It will," she swings your hands between you and tilts her head to the side, causing her hair to fall away from her face, "I promise."

"Pinkie promise?"

She laughs and drops your hands, "You spent all night with Brittany didn't you?"

You laugh with her, but offer your pinkie anyway. She takes it, but uses it as leverage to pull your hand closer and intertwine your fingers, "I pinkie promise. It'll work."

After a moment of just looking at each other you decide that you need to stop touching her now before you invite her for a sleepover. When your hands part, she looks disappoint, but moves to the refrigerator, "So…people have been asking about you." You follow her into the kitchen.

"Asking what?" you sit down at the table again and twirl your phone around.

"They want to know who was singing with the illustrious Rachel Berry," she opens the freezer and pulls out a bottle of champagne. "They loved you."

You're a little hesitant to believe that. You haven't sung in front of people in a long time and you could have sworn you were sharp in some places. Plus, you're no Rachel Berry. You sigh, "I don't really believe you."

She pops open the champagne and pours you both a glass before seating herself at the table. "Why not?" She slides one in front of you, "You have a beautiful voice Quinn. You're an amazing singer."

The compliment warms your insides, but you still don't really believe her. Mostly because she spent the entirety of her high school career telling you that you'll never be as good as her. Who are you kidding? You're not.

When you voice your thoughts to your best friend, tears fill her eyes. You frown, wondering what could have made her sad about that statement. She looks down at her drink. Her voice grows serious, "You know I was threatened by you. I was just trying to assert my one shining attribute over you."

"I was horrible to you," you shake your head. "I deserved it."

"No you didn't," you watch her swallow hard and finally bring her eyes up to you, "Have you ever- have you ever thought about a career in singing?"

You shake your head. The thought may have crossed your mind when you first joined the glee club, but after a while it sort of faded out. "Not really. Maybe at the beginning of sophomore year, but that was a pipe dream. You're the only one-"

"No," she cuts you off and shakes her head, "I'm not the only one who could have made it on their voice." She pauses and cocks her head to the side, "Can we go back to the couch? I feel a soul bearing experience coming on and you know they can take me a while."

You nod. You wonder where this is going. You don't really see a correlation between your two-week long singing dream and Rachel. So you follow her into the living room. You're surprised that she brings the entire bottle of champagne.

"You know how when someone is told something over and over they believe it, even though it may not be true?" she asks.

You nod. You've done that a lot. You're straight Quinn. You don't care how those skirts expose Rachel's legs. Puck is totally trustworthy. One wine cooler won't hurt. Yeah, you got the brainwashing thing down.

"Well I feel that many people in our glee club are extremely talented and could have made it on Broadway or in LA or singing wherever," she shrugs and takes a long gulp of her drink. "Mercedes for sure. Santana would have done amazing. Artie, Tina, and Kurt," she takes a shallow breath, "They all could have make livings singing." She looks at you, turning in her seat to completely face you, "I can't help, but think, my constant oppression kept some of them from their dreams. They all could have done great things and I stopped them. I kept telling everyone, you included-you especially that I was better than you. That I was the only one that was going to do anything with music." Tears are trickling down her face and you reach forward, gently wiping them as they fall. She shakes her head, stopping your strokes.

"Rachel, you didn't stop any of them," you dip your head down to catch her downcast eyes, "Artie and Tina are making movies together. I remember how happy Blaine and Kurt were before graduation when they moved to LA. And Mercedes was ecstatic when she got into dental school," you crack a smile, hoping to make her feel better, "And Santana's only dream is a blonde dancer to still makes people pinkie promise."

She smiles through her tears and shakes her head. You can tell that she feels a little better. "What about you?"

You open your mouth, but close it again. Maybe Rachel had a little something to do with it. I mean, how can you compare yourself to her? You shake your head. It had nothing to do with her. "I self-destructed. You know that. I make sure none of my dreams came true until a few months ago, but now I have my dream. I'm out of Lima and that's all thanks to you."

She narrows her eyes at you, "Are you sure? Because you're amazing Quinn. I've always been jealous of you. You have the voice and the look…and the smile." She grins, drawing her knees up to her chest. You can't help, but smile at the compliment and go warm all over. She adds, "There are several hundred comments on our video to prove it."

"You've seen the video?" you ask.

She nods, "Of course I have. It was part of the benefit deal. They recorded the whole thing and it's up on their website and now it's all over the internet."

You're hesitant to ask, "What did people say about me?"

She smiles dreamily and lays her head on the back of the couch, "Beautiful, radiant, voice of an angel. There were a few, 'who's the hot blonde?' They really did love you Quinn. You keep talking about how you hate real estate and the people are sleazy. You could have a career in music."

Your automatic response is to shake your head. "I couldn't Rachel. I'm not like you."

"That's why you could do it," she leans forward and picks up your hands, "You're not like me. You have a soothing voice and a beautiful prom queen from small town Ohio look," she pauses while you laugh, a delighted smile on her face, "Music needs different people. You'll never convince me that I didn't help bring you down, but please let me help you pick you back up."

You look into her pleading eyes, but you still shake your head, "I don't want to sing. I'm fine being a real estate agent, roommate of Rachel Berry extraordinaire."

She lets out a frustrated sigh, "Fine. But if you change your mind, which you will, let me know. You've already done the hard part of breaking into the music business the rest of it is gravy."

You decide that you need a quick change of subject so you pick up your glass of champagne, "How do we always have champagne?"

She begrudgingly smiles, "I have no idea."

You raise your glass in a toast, "To Barbra."

"To Barbra."

After a while of catching Rachel up on the lives of Brittany and Santana, she suggests a movie. You eye her as she puts it in, a little suspicious of her. She turns from the DVD player and puts her hands behind her back, rocking from her heels to her toes and back. "So I was thinking about this whole no cuddling thing…"

"Twice a week," you interrupt her. It's not like you can say no when you want it just as bad.

She giggles and a huge smile takes over her face. She trots over to the couch and falls into your arms, "I was going to suggest that we invite Santana, Brittany and their new friend over, so we could all cuddle but I think this is better." She slides her arms around your waist and presses her body hard against yours.

You shake your head at yourself. There's absolutely no hope for you to ever resist her and your weak attempt at creating some distance between you for some perspective is failing miserably. You rest her cheek against the top of her head and decide that for now that's okay. You'll deal with your diva addiction later because she sighs contently in your arms and you melt against the cushions.


	16. Chapter 16

For the next week things mostly went back to normal. Rachel kept meticulous count of the number of hugs you received every day and always made sure to hit her quota. So as you sit at the kitchen table, sipping your coffee and reading the entertainment section of the paper, she casually asks what you're doing tonight, "I'm going out with Ethan. We're going to go eat a pizza and watch the game."

You glance over the top of the paper and see jealous burn in her eyes. She doesn't try to hide it anymore and it makes you giddy that she's jealous. You've explained that Ethan is just your friend now and was the one that physically forced you into your apartment for _the talk_. She questions, "Game?"

You turn back to the paper, "The Knicks and the Cavs. Its the playoffs." You look back at her because you know what question is coming next and her face is adorably contorted into a look of confusion.

"What's a Knick?"

You chuckle because her face is just like you thought it would look, "You're quite possibly the worst New Yorker ever."

"Am not! I'm singing on Broadway for goodness sake." She indignantly replies and crosses her arms.

You outright laugh, "Okay." You can see her tilt her head and watch you, thoughtfully, for a few seconds. You get nervous under the gaze. She's been doing that a lot lately. You don't know why. And you're not really sure how you two should proceed from where you are now. Everything is out in the open and you're just sort of stalled. You're waiting on her to confirm that she does in fact love you more than platonically and after that you're still lost. You're in a sort of limbo with her, just waiting to see how the pieces fall.

"I forgot to tell you," she drops her section of the paper and brings one foot to rest on her chair so that she can rest her chin on her knee, "I'm going to Lima Thursday and you are coming with me."

You completely drop your section of the paper onto the table, "Ha, ha funny."

"I'm serious. I don't want to go alone." She stands and picks up both of your empty coffee cups. "It's Mr. Schue's wedding, we have to go."

"It's what?" this is the first you're hearing of this. Honestly you figured that he'd probably already gotten married and had a couple of curly haired kids.

"He's getting married and he invited all of us. Brittany told me that she and Santana are going, although most of the time Santana doesn't remember," she refills both of your cups and adds the proper dressings before setting yours in front of you and taking her seat, "I just finished sorting the mail that has been piling up on my dress and found the invitation that I got a month ago. You're supposed to tell me about the mail."

"I don't open your mail. I just pick it up from downstairs." You defend yourself, although you'd happily open it and read it to her if she asked you to.

She waves her hand, dismissing the conversation, "From now on you have permission to open my mail. Anyway, we're going."

You shake your head, "I didn't get invited." You surprised that you didn't get invited, if she, Santana and Brittany did. Especially Santana.

"I'm sure your invitation was sent to your old address. You have to go."

You simply state, "I don't want to go."

"You don't want to go because if you go my dads will interrogate you or because you'll feel the need to tell your mom about your attraction to me because they're reciprocated?" She asks, holding your eyes.

You frown. She knows you so well, "Maybe a little of both," you pause and she rolls her eyes, "Okay a lot of both. Besides I have to show a flat Friday morning."

"That's good because we're leaving Friday afternoon," she smiles triumphantly.

You shake your head, "I hate weddings." You like pretending that Lima is a fairytale land that only exists in stories. You don't want to go back.

Her eyes get wide like she can't believe what you just said, "How can you hate weddings?"

"I have to get dressed up and buy an expensive gift and drink cheap champagne," you pick up the paper again, hoping to end this conversation before she talks you into going, "I didn't even like my own wedding."

"For the record, I wasn't even at your wedding and I didn't like it," she adds lightly. When you look at her, she's smiling at you. You know that smile. It's her I'm-trying-to-get-you-to-do-something-I-want-by-looking-cute smile.

You bite the inside of your cheek to keep from smiling back. You move the paper in between you so that you can't see her and she can't see you.

"Quinn Fabray!" she exclaims, snatching the paper out of your hand.

"What?" you crack a smile.

She stands from the table and puts her hands on her hips, "I will call Santana over here."

She's so adorable you can't help, but giggle, "I'm not scared of her."

"Then Brittany and her kitten will come over and pout." She huffs, getting frustrated with you.

You finally give in. It's not like she couldn't convince you to go eventually anyway, "Fine. When does the plane leave?"

She grins wickedly, "Who said anything about a plane?"

"You're going in a car?" Santana asks, when you're having lunch with her later that day. You're seating at an iron table of a deli across the street from NYU.

You nod, "Eight hours."

"Eight hours alone in a car with Rachel Berry," Santana smirks, "I'm leaving after my class Thursday because it's my uncle's anniversary, but I'm flying because the party starts at eight."

"What about Brittany?" you ask.

"She's flying in on Friday," Santana explains, "She took the weekend off. Second time in a month. I think the world is coming to an end."

You smile. Although Santana seems cynical about it, you know that she's excited. "Where are you guys staying?"

"Her parents' place," she pops a fry into her mouth, "My parent's house is going to be insane because of the anniversary. What about you?"  
"Oh I'm definitely staying with my mom," you state. You couldn't handle a weekend with the Berry men along with a wedding after an eight-hour car ride with Rachel. Your nerves are already shot and you have a couple days before the trip.

"Finn's going," Santana casually mentions.

Fantastic. Someone else to avoid while in Lima. That'll be fun. "How do you know?"

"Puck told B," Santana shrugs, "He's going too. From what I've heard pretty much everyone is going to be there."

More people to avoid. Not that you don't love your former glee club, you just figure that once gossip fiends, always gossip fiends and news of your divorce has probably already reached them. Plus, a few minutes under their scrutinizing gazes, they're know something is up with you and Rachel. "If you could push me in front of a taxi, that'd be great."

She laughs, "C'mon it can't be that bad."

And for the next few days, you kept telling yourself that. But as soon as all your stuff was packed into your car, you start to get nervous. Extremely nervous.

You feel two soft yet strong hands kneading the knots out of your shoulders while you sit on the couch. Her voice is soft and comforting when she tells you that it'll be fine. She won't leave your side if you don't want her to. That gives you the courage you need to stand up and walk out to your car. She takes the first shift behind the wheel and you recline in your seat, trying desperately to remain calm.

The highway lulls you to sleep after about an hour of just listening to music. She doesn't push you to talk or anything like that. When you wake up the sun has gone down and it takes you a little while to remember where you are and where you're going.

"Hey," Rachel smiles when you sit your seat up straight, "You're up."

You nod slowly, "Yeah. Do you want me to drive?" You check the clock. You've only been on the road for two and a half hours, but you have to offer. You know she doesn't really like to drive.

"Please," she answers sweetly, "I think at the next gas station, we should stop and get something to snack on."

You nod, "Okay." Within twenty minutes, you find a decent enough gas station and both go inside.

"They never have my name in anything," you mutter as you and Rachel peruse the novelty mugs, pens and key chains.

"Boo all the Eliot and Steve mugs are gone." She sighs.

You grin and tap her shoulder. When she turns around you present her with one of each. You were going to give them to her dads in a weak effort to get them to like you more, but since she was looking for them to you give them to her.

She giggles and lifts them out of your hands, "We need a Judy one as well. And Frannie. What was your sister's husband's name again?"

"Mud," you state with a straight face and turn back to the key chains, "They never have Frannie either. My parents never wanted us to have truck stop mugs and key chains apparently."

Rachel purchased all the novelty items she could find with someone she knows name on them and take them to the register. Then you grab some snacks for both of you and meet her in the car.

When you open your door, you find a teddy bear in your seat with your name embroidered on it's stomach. She picks it up and smile, "Where'd you find this?"

"I had to ask man behind the counter," she smiles, proud of herself. "They were in a back." You want to show her your gratitude. Preferably with a kiss, but you find when it comes to her, you're like the lion from the Wizard of Oz. No courage. So you just smile at her and tell her that you love it. "Thank you."

"No problem," she grins with a wink.

After an hour of driving, Rachel looks around at the tree lined two-lane highway you're on. She locks the door and leans closer to you, "Quinn, I think we should stop."

You look around. You'd be lying if you said you weren't a little creeped out too. "Stop where? I haven't seen anything in half an hour."

"Are we lost?" she asks.

You take a deep breath. The fact that she's on edge puts you on edge. You have to admit, you've seen more than one horror movie that starts like this. "No. The GPS says we're going the right way." You don't add that none of this looks familiar though. Of course you've never driven this at night. You could be on the right track. But you're not sure.

"Quinn," she reaches over and takes your hand, "Can we please stop at the next hotel? It's late and I'm freaking myself out."

You nod and give her hand a squeeze, "Sure."

Within five minutes you roll up on a roadside motel. It looks almost as sketchy as the highway did, but you pull into a parking space anyway. "I'm going to go get a room. You stay here and lock the doors okay?"

"No," she nearly shoots out of her seat and into your lap, "I wanna go with you."

You nod and you both get out. You take her hand and both walk up to the office. You feel her sigh in relief when the person behind the counter is a kind looking old woman.

"Um, we just need a room," you say when Rachel stays silent next to you.

The woman smiles, "Car trouble?"

"No," you shake your head, "We're just tired." Why would she think there's car trouble? Oh my god you are in a horror movie where the people of the town make potholes in the ground so that strangers get stuck in the town.

She nods, "Of course. It's late." You hand her your credit card, which she swipes and hands back with a room key, "Second floor at the end. 204."

You glance down at Rachel who is looking suspiciously around the room. You pull her outside and back to the car. You both grab one of your bags each before running up the stairs into the room because you heard a twig snap. The small part of your brain that is still rational tells you that you're overreacting, but the rest of your brain that is bogged down from driving for so long in the dark disagrees.

You fumble with the key before getting the door open and letting Rachel run in before you. When you're both in the room, you close the door and lock it, leaning against it. She stands next to the bed and looks at you for a moment in the light of the street lamp outside the half open blinds of your window, before a smile breaks out on her face. You can't help, but smile back. You start to disintegrate into a fit of giggles and she follows suit. Soon you're both laughing so hard that you're crying and falling onto the bed.

Once you're done laughing, your abs ache. She's catching her breath next to you in the darkness of the room.

"We're ridiculous," she sighs and you can see her face lit up because she's facing the window.

"I know," you reply with a grin. You roll on your side to face her, "But we're fun."

"We're totally fun." You feel her slide her arms around your waist and pull her body up against yours. Your head tucks itself under her chin and she runs her fingers through your hair once. You smirk against her collar, "I think this counts as cuddling."

"It does not. Its a laying down hug." She state matter-of-factly and you both get lost in a mess of giggles again.  
After you both settle down she mentions, "We should have left New York earlier."

"Mhmm," you murmur into her. You like just where you are and you wouldn't change a thing about the past couple hours. You burrow as deep as you can into her and close your eyes, feeling exhaustion overtake you.

When you wake up in the morning, you find Rachel, slowly waking up next to you. You lay there for a few minutes smiling at each other before she sees that her dads had called her eight times already wondering where she was. She calls them back and you call your mom explaining what happened last night (car trouble) before you both quickly change before getting back on the road, which looks a lot less threatening in the daylight. In fact it was a beautiful drive. You wonder how tired you both were last night to get that freaked out. But it was worth it. You were now cruising with the windows down and music blaring. Her hair was up in a ponytail, but little wispy strands were dancing in the wind. When you looked at her for a few seconds, you fall for her all over again. She's so beautiful and even though you can't see her eyes behind her sunglasses you know they're closed as she just feels the air race around her face.

After a couple hours, you finally pull into Lima. You drop Rachel off at her dads' house with a promise that you'll come visit them later. That promise comes after a five minute 'discussion' on why you need to see them anyway. Of course she wins.

When you get to your mom's house, you find her and you sister baking in the kitchen. They both hug you and ask you how the drive was. You tell that that your car is okay and you're not sure what happened last night. Then your mom tells you that you're all going to lunch with the Berrys. You thought that was bad until she tells you that you're having lunch with them at their house.

"How about I go pick up some wine and meet you there?" you ask in a desperate attempt to delay the inevitable.

"No need," your mom hands you two bottles.

You huff and sink into a chair while they put the cupcakes into a plastic container to take with you. You turn to your sister, "Where's Ryan?"

"Sacramento," she states with no emotion in her voice, "On business."

You quirk your eyebrow, but shrug. You had no idea accountants needed to travel so far on business. She asks how your singing career is going and you look at her like she's crazy. She laughs, "That video of your singing has gone viral in Lima. Mostly because me and mom emailed it to everyone we know. It was even on the news like a week ago."

"Are you serious?" you ask incredulously. You turn from your sister to your mom, "Why didn't you tell me?"

"You've been busy," she shrugs with a coy smile. You narrow your eyes at your mom, but she just laughs.

On the way to the Berry household, you get a text from Santana. She ran into Sam and Lauren at the airport when she went to pick up Brittany. Apparently there aren't that many planes coming into Lima today. Anyway, they're all meeting a bar later and she wants you and Rachel to come. You text her back and tell her that you'll be there. You don't know about Rachel, but after this lunch you're sure you'll need a drink.

"Judy, Frannie, Quinn!" Eliot smiles from the doorway. He hugs all of you, giving you an extra special squeeze. You're not sure if he likes you especially or it was a warning of what was to come, but you force a fairly convincing smile and follow your mom and sister inside.

You sort of hide behind your sister as you all walk through the house and to the backyard where Steve and Rachel are peering at the grill. They seem to be in the middle of a heated argument over whatever is on top of it. Rachel stops you, she pokes her dad in the shoulder, "Tell him Quinn. Ten minutes on each side."

"Of what?" you ask and walk over to them, staying closer to Rachel than her dad.

"Black bean burgers," Steve tells you with a slight smile. You think that he can tell that you're nervous which makes you more nervous.

So you turn your attention to the vegan burgers, "Um, seven minutes on each side."

"Ha!" Steve turns to Rachel, "I told you."

Rachel playfully narrows her eyes at you, "You're supposed to agree with me."

"Sorry?" you shrug. Steve pulls you into a bear hug and you tense at first, but ease into it when it doesn't involve any pain. When Steve releases you, Rachel opens her arms. You step into them and she whispers into your ear, "One."

You smile and pull back. You both share a knowing smile before you turn back to Eliot and your mother and sister. They're moving back and forth from the kitchen to the patio table bringing things out.

"Quinn, sweetheart," Rachel puts her hands on your shoulders and turns you back to the grill, "Man the grill with my dad. I have to go grab my phone." Without giving you a chance to respond, she quickly walks into the house.

You look panicked from the retreating form to her dad's. He lets out a smile and loops his arm around you, "Don't worry. Just because you and Rachel like each other doesn't mean that we're not still thankful for you. We love Rachel unconditionally and we're glad that you take care of her." You relax under his arm, finally comfortable with him. Of course it didn't last long, "You do realize though, that we're going to have to have a long talk if you two ever start dating though."

You slowly nod as your whole body tenses. "Um, sure. Of course."

He chuckles, "It's not going to be horrible Quinn. We've already had the hard talk. It'll be easy. I'll cover three main points." He takes his arm off of you and checks off on his fingers, "Treat her well, Remain faithful to her, and no matter what brown is not a wedding color."

You blush at his mention of a wedding, but nod. That conversation doesn't sound hard at all. You already treat her well and going on dates with Ethan felt like cheating so you know you'd never cheat on her. He seems so sure that you'll end up together. Like he's sure of Rachel's feelings. You glance back at the house where Rachel is. You want her to be sure like her dad.

Lunch was easier than you anticipated. Apparently your mom and Rachel's dads have done a lot of hanging out since they got back from New York. She and Eliot started going to the same pottery class on Monday nights, although from the sound of it, it was mostly a gossip circle.

You catch Rachel looking at you. She's seated cross the table from you and she bashfully smiles when you catch her. She's so cute when you catch her doing things she knows she shouldn't be doing. You tap her food with your own under the table. "Santana texted and said that when she picked up Britt, she ran into Sam and Lauren at the airport. They're going out in like an hour. Wanna go?"

"Yes," she grins. You know that she's been dying to have some sort of reunion so they can all see that she wasn't crazy in high school. That she was right when she said she was going to be something someday.

"Awesome," you smile back, "Just let me know when you're ready."

After all the food was gone, the cupcakes were busted out. You were delighted to find that your mom had made vegan cupcakes as well as traditional ones. You find that your sister has taken to Rachel as well. She's not as in love with her as your or your mom, but she likes her enough to hug her when you and Rachel head to the bar.

"You didn't tell me it was a bar," she states when you pull to a stop in the parking lot, "It's barely two o'clock."

You grin, "It's five o'clock somewhere."

She rolls her eyes but laughs and gets out with you. The second you two step into the bar, you spot a table of your former fellow glee clubbers. Sam, Lauren, Brittany, Santana, Puck, Finn, and Mercedes are all standing around some tall tables. You tell Rachel that you'll be right there and pit stop at the bar to get you and Rachel a drink. You decide that since Rachel is a little cautious about drinking so early in the day, you get her a mimosa and get yourself a rum and coke. When you join them at the table Mercedes practically pulls you across the table in a hug. Then you hug Lauren, although you weren't that good of friends in high school, it's still good to see her. Puck squeezes you in the best bear hug you've had in a while before you hug Sam. Then when Finn is the last one of the non-New Yorkers left, you give him a hug. It's familiar and he's sweet about it. Although when you pull away, Rachel looks less than pleased.

You put your arm around her shoulders and give her a gentle squeeze, accentuated when a smile, trying to get her to remember that you love her.

She smiles back sheepishly and nods, understanding what you're saying.

"Oh my god guys, I forgot to tell you," Mercedes says setting her drink on the table, "Tina's pregnant."

A round of awws came from the girls of the group except you. You swallow hard and look at Finn. He's looking at you with the same sorrowful eyes. You just give him a curt nod before excusing yourself to go play pool. Puck follows you to the table and picks up a cue as you set up the balls.

"So how's New York?" he asks, sitting his beer and leaning back on a pool table next to the one you're playing at.

You nod, a light smile playing on your lips, "I like it- love it actually. I heard that B is trying to get you to come out and visit." When he nods you add, "You should. You can stay with me and Rachel. It'd probably be safer for you than staying with Brittany and Santana."

He chuckles, "You're right. Sometimes I can hear Santana breathing into the phone, listening to what I'm saying."

You see his eyes flicker across the room. You pray that he's not looking at Brittany. For his sake. But when you follow his eyes, he's not. You grin and turn back to the table, lining the heavy white ball up for the first shot, "What happened to you guys? I thought you two were like, a match made in badass wrestling heaven."

He takes a sip of his beer, "What always happens? I'm an idiot."

"Well at least you admit it," you break and stand up surveying the table. Then she lean back on the adjacent pool table next to him and nudge him toward your table, "Why don't you go ask her out? Buy her a drink? Tell her that you're an idiot."

He gets up and looks over the table before lining up a shot, "I should huh?"

"Definitely," you nod, "Like right now. While she's still looking at you." You see him look up and totally miss his shot, but when a smile spreads across his face, you know he doesn't car. He hands you his stick and walks off to Lauren who hasn't dropped his gaze since he caught her watching.

"Lose your opponent?" a familiar voice asks next to you.

You smile softly at Finn and nod, handing him the stick Puck just handed you, "Yeah. You up for a game?"

He nods with an awkward, crooked smile, "Always." He picks up where Puck left off and makes a shot, "How's New York?"

"It's nice," you say, "I like it there."

He nods after his shot and watches you as you get up, "Good."

You look around the table and glance at him as you place your hand on the table and the cue on your thumb, "How's the tire shop doing?"

He shrugs, "You know, it's the same. It's almost snow tire season so that'll be good."

You take your shot and sink one, so you stand up, looking for your next shot, "You know, Rachel and I drove here and I could definitely use some new tires before we drive back. We had to stop in Pennsylvania last night because of car trouble." You wiggle your eyebrows at him, "I really don't want to get stuck in a sleazy motel on the way back especially because if we get back to New York late, Rachel will miss another one of her shows which will probably result in a panic attack and then a diva demanding a private jet to pick her up at the motel."

He chuckles and nods. The look in his eyes means that he knows what you're trying to do, but he says, "I'd be happy to take a look at it for you and get you a new set of tires."

"Thanks Finn," you smile and lean over. You can feel her eyes on you so you wiggle your butt a little and peer over your shoulder. Her cheeks are a deep red as she averts her eyes. God she's so adorable. Of course if that were Puckerman, you'd march over to him and kick his ass. But it's Rachel and she could get away with murder with you. You figure that you're going to have to ask her out soon. If she does tell you that she's ready by the time you get back to New York, you going to ask her out. You nod to yourself. You're going to ask Rachel Barbra Berry out on a date. So there.

You shoot again and miss so you stand to let Finn see the table, "So what's up with Santana and Brittany? Aren't they married yet or something?"

"Soon," you smile over at the pair who is laughing with Mercedes and Sam about something. They share a glance between them that only comes for years of knowing the other. "You know Santana."

He nods with a laugh, "Yeah."

As your game goes on, Sam makes his way over and joins in on the conversation. You ask him all about how he likes Texas. He says he loves Austin and the weather and all the outdoor things he can do there. He's a big thing in the music scene down there and is signed to a small label that is owned by one of the much larger record labels. If all goes well over the next few months you may be hearing Sam Evans on the radio, he jokes.

You're proud of him, of all of your high school friends. Once Sam migrates back over to the group, you ask Finn how his parents are. Burt is still working on getting his cholesterol down and Carol is still fussing at both of them to eat better. You let out a small smile. They were once your family and you loved them. You still love them because they were so good to you.

He asks about your mom. Your mom didn't really get along well with Burt and Carol so large family gatherings were few and far between, usually saved for your birthday. You tell him that she's doing well and is now taking a pottery class in her free time. He snorts and you smile because it's funny. Your mom always made fun of women who took classes like pottery and yoga. Yet a couple weeks at Eliot Berry's BFF and she's making misshapen ashtrays with every other bored housewife and man who is reliving is high school art class prowess. It amazes you how things change.

Speaking of change, your biggest one is at the other side of the bar, huddled with Brittany as they survey the selection of music in the jukebox. "Uh oh."

Finn follows your eyes and smiles, "That didn't take long." He leans on the table next to you and nudges your shoulder, "I saw your video by the way, you and her singing. It's was really awesome."

"Thanks," you drop your head. Everyone you've ever met has seen that dumb video.

He pats your back and says, "I'm glad you're singing again Quinn." Before returning to the game.

It takes him a few more minutes to wipe the floor with you. He teases you about it, but you don't mind. You put the cues back and make your way back over to your friends.

"You let that happen?" you ask Santana, sliding up next to her and jerking your head toward the jukebox.

She smiles, "Like I could stop them."

When Kurt and Blaine walk in together the whole bar cheers, mostly because the only people in the bar at three in the afternoon are the former National Show Choir Champions. They tell you of their harrowing journey from LA and how they had to run from one end of the airport to another only to find that their flight had taken off without them. But they made it and are happy that they did.

"Blaine!" Rachel squeals as he picks her up and spins her around. Karaoke duet partners through the last two years of high school were back together and god help anyone who tried to rip them away from the jukebox.

Rachel saunters up to you with a look in her eyes that mean she wants something you're not going to like. "So…while you were in the bathroom yesterday panicking about your hair and your dress, I put my portable karaoke machine in the trunk of your car and hid it under a bunch of blankets. Can I have the keys to go get it?" She gives you her best please-think-I'm-cute-so-I-won't-get-into-trouble smile.

You feel like you shouldn't be surprised. You put your hands on your hip and scrunch your lips to one side, hoping that it effectively hides your smile. Her smile gets wider letting you know that it hides nothing. You roll your eyes at yourself and tell her, "They're in my purse on the table."

She throws her arms around you and kisses you cheek, "Thank you Quinn." And just like that the whirlwind is gone, digging through your purse to extract your keys.

It only takes Rachel two minutes to sweet talk the bartender into hooking the jukebox up to her machine. It take her two more minutes to pick out a song with Blaine then two more minutes to explain to him why she is the only person on the planet that can use to pink bedazzled microphone. Of course the first song they whip out is by Adele.

Brittany and Santana are dancing close in the middle of the bar because Brittany has taught you that nowhere is a bad place to dance. You feel a tap on the shoulder and turn around to find your ex-brother-in-law offering you his hand, "It seems we've been abandoned by our _roommates_ in favor of each other so would you like to dance."

You giggle and take Kurt's hand. He's still an excellent dancer and he still dresses with a flair that you wished you weren't scared to display in high school. You played it safe and cute and looking down at your floral dress with matching belt and cardigan, you still do. You're a little suspicious of how he says 'roommates' but you push that down. Now is not the time to be paranoid. Besides, you've missed Kurt.

"How's New York?" he asks, "Blaine and I are thinking of moving."

"Really?" you smile and look up at him, "That'd be awesome." You loved having him for a brother-in-law because when he'd come to town you could go shopping and do all the fun things that Finn wouldn't do. Although Rachel likes and practically forces you to do all those fun things, Kurt was always great company.

"I heard you're the go-to real estate agent in the big city," he grins and spins you before pulling you back against him.

You nod, "That I am, Mr. Hummel. Are you thinking high rise loft or rustic brownstone?" Your faux professional tone makes him laugh.

"I have to consult with my dearest, darlingest boyfriend, but when I convince him that I need to the be closer to the New York fashion scene and there are just as many kids in New York that he can teach music to, you'll be the first person we call," he tells you.

"Miss Fabray," you hear Rachel's voice sing over the speakers of her karaoke machine. You hadn't notice the music stop until she called you. You slowly turn around in horror when you see the rest of the people in the bar looking at you. She shoots you a reassuring and coy smile, "These nice people have been asking for an encore of your stunning singing debut."

Kurt starts pushing you toward the karaoke machine and before you can stop him, Blaine hands you the extra microphone. Rachel starts the music before you can protest. She takes your hand and pulls you close to her as you hear the beginning of one of her your favorite songs. Luckily it's a short song so you huff and start singing with her.

_Fly me to the moon_   
_Let me play among the stars_   
_Let me see what spring is like_   
_On a-Jupiter and Mars_   
_In other words, hold my hand_   
_In other words, baby, kiss me_

You're conscious of your joined hands swinging between you two. You look at her and remember how beautiful she is when she performs. She puts herself out there into every song and every expression. It makes you smile wider and sing harder. You love this song and you love her and they both go together so well.

_Fill my heart with song_   
_And let me sing for ever more_   
_You are all I long for_   
_All I worship and adore_   
_In other words, please be true_   
_In other words, I love you_

As you sing the last line, you wonder if she picked out this song because she knows you love it or because she's trying to tell you something. She gives you a playful wink before squeezing your hand. You decide to not over think it and have fun.

_Fill my heart with song_   
_Let me sing for ever more_   
_You are all I long for_   
_All I worship and adore_   
_In other words, please be true_   
_In other words, in other words_   
_I love ... you_

The bar erupts in applause. While you were singing Mike, Tina, Artie, and an unknown woman showed up. You hug Tina and Artie before turning to Mike. He introduces the unknown woman as his girlfriend. You politely shake her hand and hug Mike. But your mind is still on the song and Rachel. You turn to look at her and find her looking at you with a dreamy smile. You reflect that smile and watch as she runs her teeth over her bottom lip, nervously.

As soon as you get to New York, you're asking her out. For sure. No more waiting. You're going to do it. You're going to ask her out. No more waiting. For sure. So there.


	17. Chapter 17

After way too much to drink, you all made your way back to the high school. It was locked of course, but none of you really wanted to go in. You just wanted to look at it. You all stood in the middle of the football field. You know some of them were reliving their glory days while the rest of you were just reminiscing because you're in the midst of your glory days.

"This is pretty weird huh?" Sam asks and loops his arm around your shoulders.

You smile and lean into him, "Yeah. It seems like a lifetime ago."

"It was," he looks out over the field and lets out a sigh, "Except my abs. They're forever."

You laugh and slap him in his abs that are apparently still there.

"Hate to be a downer you guys I have _got_ to pee," Tina announces. Everyone laughs and tells her that they'll see her and Artie tomorrow at the wedding.

Someone finds a stray football and the guys start throwing it around. The girls gather on the sidelines. Mercedes shakes her head, "They're ridiculous."

"Where'd Rachel go?" Brittany asks looking around. You spot her walking up behind her with a large red bag.

She grins, "So the Cheerios storage shed was open and…" she trails off and opens the bag. Brittany's the first one to grab two pompoms and start cheering. Mercedes, Santana, Lauren, and Mike's girlfriend grab some as well. "C'mon Quinnie Quinn, Quinn," Rachel bounces her shoulders, "You know you want to."

You shake your head, "Coach Sylvester will-"

"What is she going to do to you now?" Rachel rolls her eyes, "She can yell at you, but you can walk away." She drops the bag and grabs two pompoms and rubs them against your face before pulling away and yelling out toward the field, "Go Mike! Woo!"

You look down at the pompoms and shake your head again, content to just watch the girls mess around. That part of you is dead and buried and you're okay with it. You didn't like who you were and you would like to keep your distance from that girl.

After a while, you move to sit on the bleachers and it isn't long before Santana follows you. She leans back on the row behind you and asks, "So how was the drive?"

"It was okay," you smile, watching Rachel attempt to cartwheel and keep her skirt covering her at the same time. You tilt your head, "We did get freaked out and stay at in a motel last night though."

Santana nods, "That drive at night gives me the creeps too."

"How's it working out with your new addition?" you turn to her.

She sighs and rests her head on the bleachers behind her. She's exasperated, but in such an endearing way that you don't mind. She lulls her head to look at you, "That cat is a worse cockblock than Brittany's little sister was in high school. Every time we start fooling around that cat jumps up on the bed and ruins everything. She has like a radar for that shit."

When she cracks a smile, you feel that it's okay to laugh. "Well next time you need some alone time, I'd be happy to kitten sit for you."

"Thanks Q," she pushes herself off of the bleachers, "We better get back to her parents' house to make sure that Binx didn't pee on the carpet."

"You named her Binx?" you ask. That name seems vaguely familiar to you, but you don't know from where.

"You remember that goldfish that Britt had in first grade?" Santana asks and you nod. How can you not? Brittany sobbed for a week when none other than Lord Tubbington ate poor Binx the fish when Brittany left them in the floor of her room to play together while she was at school.

"So you left Lord Tubbington alone with Binx number two?" you ask, leaning back in the bleachers.

Santana stands still for a beat before turning around and sprinting toward her car, "Brittany!" The blonde dropped her pompoms and sprinted after Santana. You start laughing your ass off which causes everyone to look at you.

When you see that Rachel is looking at you with her hands on her hips, you tilt your head, "I didn't do anything. Why do you always blame me?"

"When Santana Lopez goes running away from you, what am I supposed to think?" she asks. You can tell she's trying to be stern, but there's a playful twinkle in her eye. You stick your tongue out at her and she mirrors you before you both start laughing. Mercedes says something and steals her attention.

"Madam Fabray," Kurt smiles at you while she walks up to you. He offers you his arm and says, "Walk with me."

You happily loop your arm through his and start walking with him around the track, out of earshot of all the guys.

"So you and Rachel?" he asks after you've walked past the second turn.

You blink once before looking at him, "How did you know?"

"No matter what Santana says _I've_ had the best gaydar in this county since pre-k," he smiles and you patting your hand that resting on his upper arm, "And you two are doing some hardcore flirting all over the place. Everyone else is a little confused, but 'roommates' is Lima-speak for secret lover."

"Well there's no secret loving going on between us," you rest your head on his shoulder as you continue to walk. You're surprised at how relieved you feel knowing that someone else knows, "Believe me."

He smiles kindly at you with his wise eyes. You always wondered how the least likely people at McKinley turned out to be the most mature. Kurt always gave sage advice that was always spot on even if you didn't know it. "So there's something going on?"

You nod, "Definitely." You catch his eyes and add, "There's something there that's terrifying and confusing and exciting for both of us."

"So all that tension between you in high school was sexual?" he chuckles at his question.

You inhale through your nose and blow out through your mouth, "On my end? Yes. She told me that she has developed feelings for me the day after that video of us singing was shot."

"I can't say I blame her," he says as you turn around the third corner. "The chemistry between you two is palpable."

You get a little excited at his statement. You knew that when you two performed together that it was something special, but you had no idea that other people could see it too. "Really?"

"Yes," he nods with a confident smirk. You round the last turn, coming back to the group that is gathered by the bleachers. The pompoms have disappeared and most of them look like they're saying goodnight. Rachel stands on her toes to hug Sam and her calf muscles flex capturing your attention. Your eyes can't help, but linger and slowly trail up her legs until they get to the bottom of her deliciously short skirt.

"Have you told your mother?" he asks, seemingly out of nowhere.

You stop dead and look up at him, "What?"

He surveys your face and adds, "If you weren't so busy oogling Rachel, you would have heard my brilliant segue from your obvious chemistry to your mother. Which bring me back to, have you told her? I've met Judy Fabray on many occasions and even I'm not sure how that will go down."

You bit your bottom lips and look from the track back up to Kurt, "I guess I should do that huh?"

"You should," he nods, "Better from you than from someone else. People follow Rachel around with cameras. One shot of you holding hands in Central Park and the whole world will know."

"But someone else is easier for me," you shrug, then smile with what you think is a brilliant idea, "You could do it."

He vigorously shakes his head, "I am not facing Judy Fabray alone."

"I could do it by telegram," you offer, restarting your walk to the dwindling group of your friends.

"Although I applaud your effort at reviving that lost form of communication, face to face works best," he puts his arms around you shoulders, "I suggest you do so before Rachel very publicly and in front of a bunch of cameras, jumps your bones."

You look at her and see her looking back at you. There's a suggestive look on her face that makes you tingly all over. She shoots you a wink before turning back to Blaine who started singing a song which of course she joins in.

You sigh because Kurt's right. He's always right. You hate when he's always right. You're surprised at how easy the decision comes to you. Especially after seeing Rachel, "Fine. I'll do it tonight."

Of course once again you turn into the courage-less lion when you walk into you mom's house after dropping Rachel off at her dads'. You're glad that your sister is still there, watching TV with your mom.

You take a deep breath at the front door and count to ten before striding inside. You walk up to them and plant yourself on the coffee table facing both of them. Your sister senses something big so she mutes the TV.

Suddenly, you feel like you're in high school again. Scared and pregnant, about to tell you mom that you've just done something to disappoint her beyond anything she could ever imagine. A lump in your throat begins to form and your chest feels likes it's closing in on itself. You can see you father standing behind the couch and yelling at you and you can see that look in your mom's eyes. The disappointment. Suddenly, you feel dread fill your whole body. You change your mind right then, but apparently no one got the message to your mouth, which is already spilling the beans. You don't even hear yourself say it. But you can feel your mouth making the words, "Mom…I'm…in love with Rachel."

Her face falls and remains that way. She just stares at you. Her face hasn't moved and you can feel your heart slamming in every direction. Your mouth is still moving, but all you hear in your noise is a deep whirling sound, "Mom? Please say something."

You see your sister turn to your mom out of the corner of your eye. Her reaction is the same reaction it usually is. Wait until mom does something and then do the same thing.

Speaking of your mom, she starts shaking her head, but her eyes aren't on you. They're on the wall behind you. You see tears accumulate in her eyes and they finally meet yours. Then you see it. The disappointment. It stabs you right in the heart. You can't stop the tears trickling down your face. You can't look at it anymore. So you run out the door of the house. You get in your car ignoring your sister's calls to keep you inside.

You flashback to high school again. That same look of disappointment in your mother's eyes when you told her you were pregnant. The same solo walk of shame to your car. The same crushing feeling in your chest when you sit down in the driver's seat and start sobbing.

You know you're crying too hard to drive so you get out of your car and start walking. You walk down the street then take a left. Then you take a right and another right and then a left and soon you completely lose track of where you are.

That was a stupid idea. Stupid Kurt and his stupid ideas. Stupid Rachel with her big brown eyes and perfect smile making you fall in love with her. You kick a rock that bounces along the sidewalk before falling into someone's yard. Stupid. It was a stupid idea and now you've lost your second parent…again. You knew this was going to happen. You just knew it.

Somehow you find yourself standing in front of the church that the wedding is behind held out tomorrow. It's huge with large wooden doors that remind you of the one Santana took you to. You look around and pull open the heavy door. There's no one inside and you can see that it's already been decorated. There are flowers all over the place and white lines draped on the ends of the pews. It makes it feel less like the one in New York, but when you look up at the stained glass window, you feel a small sense of comfort. This isn't the one you went to when you lived here, but you always admired it from afar.

You make your way to one of the pews in the middle of the church and sit down. Your tears dry up as you stare at the ornate, intricate stained glass window. You wish you would have come here when you were pregnant. Instead you drove, sobbing to Finn's house. You can't go find Kurt because he's most likely staying with Finn or Burt and Carol and that's a whole level of awkward you're not sure you'd ever be ready for. Rachel's house doesn't seem like any better of an option. Her dads will be there and be all supportive and you just need some time. This is better. Much better.

"Hey Quinn. What are you doing here?" The voice startles you but when Mr. Schue sits down next to you relax against the back of the creaking wooden seat.

"I um, I'm hiding from..." You mumble out the end.

He leans back in the pew next to you, "What was that?"

"My mom and my sister," you state with a sigh." And Rachel's dads."

He chuckles, "Why would you do that? They're all very nice."

"It's a long, long story and this..." You gesture to the church, "reminds me of the one in New York."

"You're living in New York? Are you still friends with Santana? I talked to her Thursday night when Emma and I ran into her at a restaurant where she was celebrating some sort of family anniversary," he asks, turning to you. He gets excited and you're thankful for the distraction.

"Yeah," you nod, "I've always stayed in touch with Santana but I've recently moved to New York."

"What about Finn? I thought you two got married. That's where we sent your invitation, to your house here." He looks confused and rubs his chin.

You slowly nod and move your eyes back to the windows, "We were."

"Oh…" he looks down and then back up at you, "I'm sorry." You watch him and find a lack of disappointment in his eyes. There's just sympathy. You don't want any of that either so you look back toward the front of the church.

"It's...okay," you tell him and yourself. "I'm happier now. In New York...with Rachel."

He pats your shoulders, "I'm glad you two are friends now."

You chuckle. That's pretty funny to you. He looks even more confused so you take a deep breath and start explaining. You've told three people tonight, what's another one? "Remember how I was horrible to her in high school?" You wait for him to nod before going on, "And you know how little boys pull a girl's hair to show that they like them?" It takes a second but you can see recognition in his eyes.

"Oh," he nods, "Well that certainly explains a lot." He nods again and looks at you, "Are you okay? Is that what you're here about?" He vaguely gestures to the front of the church.

"Sorta," you look back at him and his understanding, caring face. You take a deep breath, "I told her about it. I told my mom I was in love with Rachel and…" you start to choke up, "She had that same look on her face when I told her I was pregnant." You don't know what came over you and you start sobbing, "It's not-." You can't finish the sentence.

He pulls you into his arms and you lean into him, letting the flow of tears go. After a while you pull away and wipe your face, embarrassed, "I'm sorry. You shouldn't be thinking about this. Your wedding is tomorrow."

"The reason Emma and I are getting married is because of you guys," he loosens his arms, giving you an out if you want to take it, "I always have time for my kids."

You smile through your tears. "You're the best Mr. Schue. You're pretty much the only reason that I stayed in high school."

"You thought about dropping out?" he asks. You know that it's the first he's heard of it and the only other person that really knows is Frannie.

You nod, "I got pregnant at sixteen. I was disgraced. My parents had kicked me out," you expel a breath that you've been holding back for years, "I didn't know what I was going to do. Dropping out seemed like the only way to not have that look of pity or disgust thrown my way everyday. But you kept telling us that we could be great. That we could do whatever we set our minds to. You saved me. You and Rachel," You shake your head, "And that stupid song."

"What song?" he prods rubbing your shoulder in a fatherly fashion. You suddenly realize that he's been your only father figure since you were sixteen.

You bow your head with a sad smile, "It's stupid. I cry every time Rachel sings it. 'Keep Holding On'."

He nods, "I seem to remember you crying the first time she sang that as well."

You chuckle, "I was doomed from the start. That short little diva was always my weakness." You lean back in the pew and look up at the stained glass. "Anyway, thanks for listening Mr. Schue. I feel a lot better."

He smiles at you, "No problem. You know you can always come to me with any problems you have."

You push off of the pew and stand up, exhausted from this long, long….super long day. "And if you ever need a house in New York City, you know who to call."

He stands up and hugs you before walking you out the door. He offers you a ride, but you shake your head. You need to walk and clear your mind before facing your mother again. At the very least you have to get your stuff out of your old room so you can slink over to the Berry house….your thoughts come to a halt when you look up and see the Berry house looking right back at you. Your subconscious is really starting to bug you with its church seeking, Rachel needing attitude.

You stand there and stare at it for a while. There are figures moving inside against the lights of the living room. You can see Steve and Eliot talking to each other and then to someone who is out of your visual range. Then they both disappear. You let out a sigh and start walking again toward your mom's house.

The front door of the house slams, stopping you mid-step and Rachel runs outside, keys in hand toward the pair of parked cars in the driveway. She stops dead when she sees you. Instead of making her way to the car, she turns and runs to you, throwing her arms around you. "Quinn, where have you been? We've been looking all over for you."

"We?" you ask, confused.

"Your mom called and told my daddy what happened," she pulls away and looks you in the eye, "You can't come out to your mom and run away before she has a chance to respond."

You can still see the look in your mother's eye and your own eyes start to water, "But she…that look…"

"It's a lot to process," Rachel reaches up and carefully wipes away the first tear the slides down your cheek, "You didn't give her any time to process." Rachel's hand slides into yours and she pulls you inside. When Steve and Eliot see you, they look relieved and Eliot pulls out his phone.

Rachel continues guiding you up to her room where she sits you on the bed. Your knees are touching and she holds both of your hands in her own. "Quinn honey, I don't want you to take this the wrong way and I say this with all the love it the world, but when you get scared you shut down. You run off and don't give anyone the chance to tell you otherwise. You've always been so guarded and I feel ridiculously privileged to be occasionally let behind your wall," her fingertips stroke the skin over your heart. She holds your eyes and you can feel tears welling up in them. "You keep things inside when you don't need to. You can talk to me. You should know by now that I won't judge you."

You bow your head and watch your tears fall onto the fabric of your dress. "I'm sorry."

She scoots closer to you and cradles your head against her chest, "Don't be sorry. I know, in small parts, that you've been through some horrible things that no one should have to endure. I know that you've done amazing things with your life Quinn and I'm so proud of who you've become." She gingerly kisses your forehead, "Again, I am always, always here to listen if you want to open up to me and share your pain."

You shake your head, "I don't-" you hiccup, "Not-"

"Quinn," you murmurs into your ear and it immediately calms you down, "That's part of loving someone. You've helped me through some of my pain. I'm slowly learning that my voice does not define who I am. At night after I've had a nightmare, which is always about the same thing, you assure me that no matter what I'll be okay and now I know that I would be okay. You sacrifice sleep among other things to make sure I'm okay. Let me make sure you're okay. You know how one-sided I feel this relationship is. Now that our feelings are out there, let me help you."

You rest your head on her shoulder and close your eyes, feeling the tears slip from your cheeks onto her neck, "I knew I shouldn't have come back."

She softly chuckles and slips her arms around your waist, "This was a lot for one night. We'll have many more and there will be more tears, but it'll get better. I promise."

"Pinkie promise?" you hold out your pinkie.

She immediately takes it and nods, "Pinkie promise."

There's a knock on the doorframe and Steve's large frame fills up the space, "Quinn? You mom is here. We'll all be in the living room when you're ready."

"Thanks," you force a smile at him.

He nods and disappears.

"Ready?" Rachel asks you. She stands and offers you her hands.

You take them, feeling a little better that this time you have allies. You know that all of the Berrys are behind you especially the youngest one so you lead the way down the stairs. As soon as you can see the living room, you can see your mom and your sister sitting on the loveseat, perpendicular to Steve and Eliot who are on the couch. You can't see his face, but Eliot is shaking his head and his shoulders are bouncing like he's laughing. When a smile breaks out on your mom's face you feel that this will go okay. You can't believe that you freaked out like you did…well you can, but wished that you hadn't.

You and Rachel take a seat next to Eliot and Steve on the side of the couch closest to your mom. She smiles softly at you and takes a deep breath, "You ran off before I could answer."

"I know," you quietly reply, looking at her shoes. You feel embarrassed, but still terrified.

"Quinnie," your mom leans forward and takes your hand, "I realized a long time ago that I love all of my children no matter what. You just walked into the house and said it and then left while I was still trying to process what you just said."

"But you looked disappointed," you sniffle and slowly blink spilling more tears on your cheeks. You had a reason for running off. And it was a good reason. At least it seemed like one at the time.

You hear your mom take a deep breath. She's struggling for something to say. So your sister steps in, "You know mom has this crazy idea that we'll have that perfect life with the hunky husband and little cottage house with two kids and a puppy. It's her own way of saying that she wants the best for us and in Lima that's about as good as it gets. But outside of this town, what's best for you is what makes you happy. She was just shocked." Your sister waits for you to look at her before adding, "And believe me, as much as mom is a total fangirl for Rachel, she will be cheering harder for you two than anyone else."

Everyone lets out a laugh and Rachel places her hand on your free arm. When the laughter dies down, all eyes settle on your and your mom again.

"I think your sister summed it up pretty well," your mom nodded, "I don't know much outside Lima, but I know that the world is bigger and more open outside of here. I just want you to be happy Quinn."

You swallow and meet your mom's eyes. You know she means it and it takes all the weight off of your shoulders, "Thanks Mom."

Your sister interjects, "So are you to actually together or is this one of those a-ha I'm in love with my best friend, but she's straight things?"

You look to Rachel. You have no idea how to explain this. You can see the wheels in her brain smoking as she quickly assembles the perfect words. She glances at you with a small smile before talking to your mother and sister, "We are not together…officially. I have developed feelings for Quinn which I am trying to sort through because she wants me to be one hundred percent sure if we embark on a romantic relationship. I completely understand her hesitation and will respect her wishes." She pauses and her eyes find your mom's, "I assure you that I have absolutely nothing, but the purest of intensions with your daughter. I, like you, want her happy. Above all else, she's my best friend and I protect my friends. Not that she needs it." She shoots a smile to you before she continues, "Quinn's fierce and fiery and she can take care of herself, but now she has someone who can help."

Your mom seems to be at a loss for words, as does everyone else in the living room. So your sister leans into your mom and let's out a dreamy sigh, pressing her hand to her chest, "Mom, I think I'm in love with her too." Leave it to your sister to be the comic relief.

You turn to Rachel and see her looking back with sincerity in her eyes. You just want to kiss her at that moment, but you know it's a bad time. You're fine with just squeezing her hand to let her know you appreciate what she said. She smiles and squeezes back.

When you turn back to your mom, she looks thoughtful and when her eyes settle on Rachel, you get nervous again. She clears her throat and waits for Rachel to look at her before asking, "So if you two do decide to…date, would you be open about your relationship with her? Publicly? You're somewhat of a celebrity and there are people who are very interested in the details of your personal life?"

You're a little stunned at that question. The way she asked makes you think that she's being protective of you. You smile a little and then consider the question. You never really thought about it before. You don't really consider her to be famous. To you she's Rachel Berry, the girl from high school who likes to cuddle when she watches movies and sings in her sleep.

Eliot and Steve seem as eager to hear the answer as you, your mom and your sister are. You're all leaning toward Rachel, waiting for her answer. You can see that she's going through a list of different answers. You two have never discussed the media because they've never been a problem. She dated David for six months and that's five months longer than it takes for the media to lose interest. Rachel Berry with a new date, a new _girl_ date would certainly be news worthy.

She puts on a smile that you know isn't entirely real and answers, "I guess if we do start dating then we'll cross that bridge when we get there." When she sees that your mom isn't all that pleased with her answer she adds, "It's something that I'd have to discuss with Quinn because it would affect her as much as it would affect me."

You glance at your mom to find that she seems a little more satisfied with the answer. You feel that this conversation needs to end so you exaggerate a yawn and rub your eyes, "I'm exhausted. C'mon mom let's get out of here and let them get some rest."

She and your sister readily agree. The Berrys walk you out of the house and Rachel walks all three of you to the car, making sure to give your sister and your mom hugs before taking your hand and swinging it in between you. The thoughtful look in your eyes makes you nervous, but when she sees you looking she lets out a wide smile and you automatically melt.

"Do you want to meet for breakfast tomorrow?" she asks, "So we can discuss some issues that were brought up tonight?"

You nod. You don't really want to talk about it. You sort of want to ignore any and all _issues_ for the rest of your life. But you know that this is Rachel and she is always a proponent of talking it out. "Call me when you wake up and I'll come get you."

She runs her teeth across her bottom lip and lets go of your hand to lock her arms around your neck. You slip your arms around her waist and hold on tight, closing your eyes and surrendering to her completely. She's so warm and fits perfectly in your arms.

"If you need _anything_ tonight, call me, okay?" she whispers in your ear. When you don't immediately answer, she pulls away and looks you in the eyes, "Quinn, promise me."

You choke up a little bit at her words and you roll your eyes at yourself, taking back one of your hands to wipe a few rebellious tears off of your face, "Promise."

Her eyes are sad when they see the tears in your eyes. "I hate it when you cry."

"I don't like it much either," you smile, trying to get her to do the same.

She's fighting it, but a smile wins it's way onto her perfect lips. Her eyes flicker to the car that is currently housing your sister and your mom, "They're waiting for you so I guess I have to let you go." She presses your bodies together one last time before disengaging completely, "Goodnight Quinn."

You sniffle, but give her a genuine smile, "Goodnight Rach." You take her in one last time before making your way to the car and getting in. She stands on the sidewalk and watching your car pull away. She's still standing there when you turn the corner and houses come between her and the car.

Tonight was an insane ride for you that your mom, sister, and the Berrys were all involuntarily drug through. You feel bad for causing so much trouble. You wished that you could blame it on the alcohol consumed today at the bar, but you know you were sober before you even left the high school. You have nothing to blame it on but your own emotional…stuff.

As soon as you get back to the Fabray house you say goodnight to your mom and your sister before heading upstairs to your room. You have a feeling tomorrow is going to be as draining as today was.


	18. Chapter 18

After Rachel calls you in the morning and you pick her up, you stop at the Hummel Tire Shop. "I told Finn I'd drop the car off so he could change the tires and check the engine."

"There's something wrong with the engine?" Rachel asks, following you to the door of the front office.

You shake your head and pause with your hand on the handle, "No, but we did tell everyone that we had to stop because of car trouble," you smile and lean close to her, "And not because you're loony."

"I do believe I wasn't the only one running into the dank hotel room," she smiles back at you. Her smile reaches her eyes, but she looks tired.

You open the door and motion for her to walk in before you, "Did you sleep okay?"

Her straightened hair ripples, as she shakes her head, "Not really I was on the phone for about an hour with my agent before staying up with Dad to talk for a while. Then I had a nightmare."

You watch her as she looks around at all the small car parts and accessories hanging up on the walls. You've never met her agent but when she talks about him, he goes from being a demigod to being a arrogant, pompous ass in a matter of seconds. You wonder which one it is this time, but before you get a chance to ask, you feel a hand on your shoulder and a familiar voice asking, "Quinn?"

When you turn you find Carol Hummel looking at you. You don't actually know what to say to her. She looks a little pissed at you and you take a step back.

"What are you doing here?" she asks…well more like demands. Her voice is forceful.

You feel Rachel take a step closer to you and take your hand. Since you still can't find words, she says, "Finn told us to drop by… _my_ car this morning, Mrs. Hummel."

Carol's eyes ripped from your frightened face and softened when they got to Rachel. "Rachel, how are you doing? I heard you're on Broadway now."

Rachel didn't hesitate to step in front of you and you didn't hesitate to leave them in the front of the shop to walk into the back of the garage. Finn was standing there, looking at a clipboard. Burt is on the other side of the shop, looking down at the engine of a car, sipping what you know to be black coffee out of a paper cup. Finn was the first one to look up as you walked over to him.

He let out a smile, looking happier to see you than he has in years, "Hey, here to drop off your car?"

You nod, "Although Rachel told your mom it was hers because your mom looks ready to cut my brake lines."

He chuckles and nods, "I keep telling her it wasn't your fault. Things happen." He glances at his step-dad and then back at you, "I'm happy for you now. And Rachel."

You nearly drop the keys that are in your hand. You search his face and find him, like always, easy to read, "Did Kurt tell you?"

His smirk gives him away. You huff. Of course Kurt told him and soon the whole damn glee club will know and they'll go to their respective corners of the country and tell everyone they know. You shake your head. That's a stupid train of thought. And it's not like it matters anyway. You don't live in Lima, Ohio anymore. You live in New York City. No one cares who you sleep with, just how much money you're making while you're doing it.

"Anyway," you offer him your keys, which he takes, "And I guess I'll give my credit card to your mom."

"Any preference in kind of tires?" he asks and picks up another clipboard off of the small, crowded desk next to him.

You shake your head, "Do your worst, I'm transporting a very important person on Broadway."

He smiles at you and unexpectedly takes you into his arms, "I'm really happy for you Quinn."

As he's holding you in place, you can smell him. He's wearing cologne. A kind that he's never worn before. You pull away, "You're dating someone." With a smile you ask, "Who is it?"

He blushes a little and asks, "How did you know?"

"Your cologne," you cross your arms, but can't help a smile. You want him to be happy.

"You don't know her. She works in the mall at the perfume counter," Finn nods and puts your keys up on a hook above the desk, "I met her while I was looking for a present for my mom on her birthday."

"Is she cute?" you ask. You kind of hope that she's not a pretty as you. You don't know why.

He sits down on the desk and crosses his arms, "She's coming with me to the wedding tonight. I'm sure you'll meet her there. Is Rachel your date?"

You shake your head, "Not officially. Not yet."

"Scared?" he asks with a knowing tone. You hate that he knows you so well. Of course five years of cohabitation with do that to people.

You hear the door to the garage swing open and Rachel walks in with a chipper smile on her face. She practically skips over to you and hugs Finn before taking a place next to you. You smile adoringly at her and ask, "She asked for your autograph didn't she?"

Rachel does say anything. She just smiles and nods.

"Anyway," you look at Finn who has nothing short of a pervy smirk on, his eyes bouncing between you two. You slap his chest and he bursts out laughing.

He rubs the back of his head, "Sorry. I'll have your car ready before the wedding."

"No rush," Rachel grins. You know that she knows that smile on his face and she gives him a suggestive wink, "We'll be busy."

Both your and your ex-husband's jaws drop to the floor. You don't have time to gawk though because Rachel drags you out of the garage by your hand and down the street to the Lima Bean.

You have a seat at a small table that has a chessboard built into it. There's a box of loose pieces on the edge of the table and Rachel thoughtfully sets the pieces up in the correct order before taking a sip of her coffee as she moves her knight, starting the game.

You certainly don't want to be the one to bring up the issues that you two are supposed to discuss at breakfast. You just spear a strawberry with your plastic fork and put it in your mouth, moving a pawn forward two spaces. After ten minutes of silence as your little wooden pieces battle on the board, she finally speaks, "Would you be okay with a very public relationship? Your mother was right and my agent and PR manager agree. It would be _very_ public."

You're trying to gauge her reaction to this. She's holding a straight face, which makes it hard for you to know what she thinks about it. You answer honestly, "I think that I'm getting to where I don't care what other people think. I haven't been happy in a long time and with you, I'm happy. So if you want to do this, it's up to you. It's your career, not mine."

She exhales and moves her queen across the board, "Of course you give me the perfect answer."

You smile at her. You open your mouth to answer when a girl who looks about sixteen walks up to your table. She's looking between you two and holding a notepad in her hand. You lean back, ready to wait while the girl gets Rachel's autograph.

Rachel smiles at her, "Hi, can we help you?"

"You guys are totally awesome," the girl gushes, "I'm in New Directions now and Mr. Schue doesn't stop talking about you guys. His first Nationals team. Anyway," she hands Rachel the pad. Rachel quickly signs it and hands it back. The girl turns to you and offers it to you, "I saw your video. You rock."

You glance over at Rachel who is positively beaming with pride as you tentatively take the pad and sign it. It's weird. The last thing someone handed you something to sign, you were getting a speeding ticket. When you hand it back, she grins, "It would be so cool if you two could sing with us sometime." Her eyes light up, "We'll be in New York for Nationals in a few months." The girl looks so excited that she's about to pee her pants, "It would be so cool if we could sing with you guys!"

Rachel smiles kindly, "We'll talk to Mr. Schue today."

The girl throws her arms around Rachel in a quick hug and before you can react she throws her arms around you. Then she turns around to walk off she stops cold. Santana and Brittany were standing behind the girl, apparently waiting for her to finish drooling.

"Brittany!" the girl grins.

Brittany looks confused and looks to Santana for direction. The med student just shrugs. Then the girl's eyes move to Santana. "Oh. My. God."

"Do I know you?" Santana asks, suspiciously.

The girl explains that she's in New Directions now and has watched all of your Nationals footage and that you're all her heroes. She wins Santana over by telling her that she sings Amy Winehouse better than Amy Winehouse does. She gets their autographs before bouncing away.

"That was weird," Santana watches the girl walk out of the coffee shop. Then she turns to you two, "Early morning chess game?"

Rachel nods, "You're welcome to join us."

Brittany kisses Santana's cheek before saying, "I'm going to grab your coffee." The choreographer walks to the front of the shop and gets into line.

You watch as Santana watches Brittany narrowing her eyes at her girlfriend, studying her like one of her books. When she looks back at you, she sees you looking and says, "She's been acting weird. All sweet and shit. More than usual. And last night she was talking on the back porch with my dad for like an hour while I was stuck inside with my mom and my aunts and uncles. Something is up."

You sip your coffee to try to cover up your smile. You're sure you know what that's about. It's nice of Brittany to ask Santana's dad for permission. For Santana's very traditional family, Brittany's conforming to all of their mores. You see Brittany glancing back at the table. She seeks you out and gives you a knowing smile. Now you're sure what she was talking to Santana's dad about.

When Brittany returns with hers and Santana's coffee, she pulls up a chair next to you and looks over your shoulder. "You better move your horse out of the way."

You look down at the board and find that she's right. Rachel pouts on the other side of the table, "No fair Brittany."

You move your knight to the side and avoid losing it. Brittany rests her chin on your shoulder and you lean your head against hers. You watch across the table as Santana leans over and whispers something to Rachel. Your roommate moves her rook over and puts you in check.

Soon Brittany and Santana are telling you two where to move things and you and Rachel are just the hands moving things around.

"How are you two so good at this?" Rachel asks after the game as gone on for half an hour.

"We used to be super poor," Santana offers, "and all we did was play board games and watch fuzzy network TV." She squints at the board before giving Rachel her next move.

"Santana won't play Monopoly with me anymore," Brittany grins.

Santana shoots a smile to her girlfriend, "Because you're too good and I hate losing."

"Oh," you ask as you drink the last few drops of your second coffee, "How's Binx?"

"Lil' B saved her before that demon cat could eat her," Santana answers and you watch her stare at Brittany. You look to the blonde next to you. Her eyes are roaming all over the board and she's biting the nail on her left index finger. Then you look back at Santana and see the look in her eyes. At that moment, she thinks that Brittany is the most beautiful person on the planet.

After giving whispering your move to you, Brittany looks up at Santana, "He's not a demon."

"Who's Little B?" Rachel asks, her eyes bouncing between the three of you.

"Little Brittany a.k.a. Britt's little sister," Santana chomps of the end of a Danish as she mentally goes over the chessboard.

"Doesn't she go to McKinley?" you ask trying to distract her so that she'll make a bad move and you'll win. You've been at this for a long time and you're ready to go, but you still hate losing.

"She's a Cheerio," Santana nods.

Rachel looks to Brittany, "She's not in glee club?"

Brittany offers a disappointed shrug, "She thinks it's for dorks." Then Brittany smiles, "But she is on the motocross team."

"Oh my god," Santana tilts her head with a sigh, "I wish she wouldn't. I was a nervous wreck at your races. She's…baby Britt."

"Statistically speaking isn't it more dangerous to be a Cheerio?" Rachel asks, looking between Santana and Brittany.

They both look at each other and crack a smile. Then they look at Rachel. Santana nods, "You're right, but I can't help it."

You add to Rachel, "I went to one of Brittany's races and I'm sure Santana had two or three minor heart attacks while watching." You don't had that you think she was seconds away from breaking your arm because she was holding onto it so tight.

While you weren't paying attention, Brittany reaches around you and moves one of the pieces. Then sitting back with a self-satisfied grin, "Checkmate."

The smile immediately vanishes from Santana's face. Her eyes dart to the board and go over every single leading up to the kill. She leans back in her chair with a huff, "Damn it."

"Can you get me a tea babe?" Brittany grins at Santana.

The other girl exhales again and stands up, grumbling all the way to the counter.

"Can you do me a favorite?" Brittany whispers to you as soon as Santana is out of earshot.

You nod, your eyes flickering to Rachel who is watching you both closely. You're a little perplexed by Brittany's instruction, but when you ask if she's serious she nods so you agree to it.

As Santana gets back you stand as well as Brittany. Rachel takes the hint and stands with you. "I guess we should start getting ready. You drop us off ay my house?"

Santana agrees and a few minutes later, you and Rachel are standing in front of your mom's house watching them drive off. You can't stop the smile from creeping onto your face.

"What's going on?" Rachel asks, crossing her arms.

"I have to go meet with Coach Sylvester," you turn to her, "I can take you home if you want before I go."

"Why would you meet with her?" her perfectly sculpted eyebrows furrow.

"Brittany asked me to," you state, "It has something to do with her proposing."

"She's proposing?" Rachel squeals with a huge smile on her face. She claps and hugs you, "Okay I want to go, but what does Coach Sylvester have to do with proposing?"

"Not a clue," you shrug. You glance up at your house and then down the street, "We can walk."

"Your car's going to be ready tomorrow right?" Rachel asks, wrapping her arms against a light wind as you walk toward McKinley.

You nod, "Finn said it would be. I told him I had a very important person to get back to New York before her Monday show."

She grins and glances at you while you walk, "As nice at these last few days have been with nothing to do, I miss having something to do."

Classic Rachel. "You haven't sung in front of an audience in so long, I'm surprised you haven't exploded."

She playfully pushes you. You step into the plush grass of someone's yard before stepping back onto the sidewalk. You like this. It's easy. Teasing her makes her smile and that light shines behind her eyes. You've know for years that you're head over feet, Celine Dion song, romance movie in love with her, but at moments like these everything feels new again. Like you just laid eyes on her for the first time and felt your heart start morph into a million butterflies trapped in your chest.

She seems to recognize the look and a light pink tint spreads across her cheeks. Her head bows and her hair falls in front of her face so that you can no longer see face.

"You okay?" you ask. You're not really concerned that you made her uncomfortable. You just want to know why you of all the people in all the world are the only person to make her blush. You've never really seen it happen before.

She looks up to you with a faint smile as you cross the street to McKinley. "Yeah. I'm fine. Great even."

You smile wide at hearing that. You decide to just leave it at that as you walk the rest of the way to the school doors. You have no idea why Coach Sylvester would be at school on a Sunday, but in high school you did happen to find her secret room and figure that she likes to sleep close to her trophies.

When you find the front doors open you let Rachel in first. The hallway seems smaller to you than it used to and it's completely empty. Rachel hooks her arm through yours as you walk through the hall. You look down at her, but she's looking around. There are posters for the Cheerios and New Directions as well as the Decathlon team and various other activities. It's a huge change from the Cheerio dominated culture of your high school years. You're glad that the playing field has evened out. The Cheerios aren't any less impressive, but New Directions is just as impressive and you helped put them there.

When you find Coach Sylvester's office in the exact same place it always has been you find her behind her desk furiously writing in her journal. Rachel tugs on your arm and you at her. She glances down the hallway then back at you, telling you that she's going to wander around while you talk to Sylvester. You nod and watch Rachel walk off before turning back to the woman at the desk.

You think it's best not to let her catch you watching her so you knock on the doorframe. Her eyes shoot you. When she looks up at you, the hard stare you're expecting is a softened gaze. You think you see her start to smile before she yanks off her glasses, "I never thought I'd see you here again Q."

You suddenly feel like you're sixteen again. She has that effect on people you surmise. You look around the office. There are some more trophies around the room that have been won since you left. You look up at her again and explain, "I'm back for Mr. Schue's wedding and…Brittany sent me here."

"Ah," Sue nods. She reaches across her desk and grabs a set of keys out of a Cheerios mug on her desk and hands them to you.

Your eyes scan the trophies along the wall a few more times after the key are in your hand. "How are the Cheerios?" You know that asking that is like asking her how she's doing. She's hopelessly attached to the squad of Cheerios.

She nods, "They're excellent as always. Of course they never have that flair it did with the three best Cheerios I've ever seen." She gives you a wink and you smile back. "How's my favorite former head Cheerio?"

You nod, "Doing excellent as well." You spot a familiar face in a picture of the current squad on the wall, "How's Brittany's sister doing?"

"Well she's no Brittany," Sue slid her glasses back on and starts shuffling around papers, "In fact, she's decided to emulate the polar opposite. In her interview, for a spot on the Cheerios," Sue picks up a paper and reads off of it, "She said that her inspiration for how she planned to handle herself as a Cheerio is Santana Lopez."

"Wow," you quietly laugh and continue looking through the pictures, trying to spot other people's younger sisters. When you don't see any, "Didn't Santana tell you that her inspiration was Genghis Kahn?"

You hear Sue chuckle behind you and turn to look at her when she answers, "Yes. That was the second best answer I've ever heard."

"What was the best?" you have to ask. You think you know though.

"Yours," she smirks, "Of course when am I not the answer to a question?"

You share a smile before you see movement outside the door. Rachel is standing across the hallway, leaning back on the lockers. You look back at Sue, "Are you coming to the wedding?"

"I suppose I'd need to," she adds taking off her glasses again, "I'm officiating it."

You can't stay you're not completely shocked, but you figured that at some point she'd become friends with Mr. Schue if only to stop him from bugging her about becoming friends anymore. "I'll see you there."

She gives you one last nod before you walk out of the room keys in hand. Rachel looks up from the tiles and smiles at you. "Get what you came for?"

You nod and dangle the keys.

"What are those for?" she eyes them suspiciously.

You just shrug, "I'm just following instructions. Where have you been?"

"I found out where Mr. Schue is having his reception," she makes a face of disapproval. If she found it inside the school you can't really disagree with her disapproval.

"It's not in the music room is it?" you push through the outside doors of the school and into the warming mid morning day.

"Worse," she huffs, "The gym. If he expects me to sing in that stinking-"

"You'd do it," you interrupt her, "Not only because it's Mr. Schue's wedding, but you've gone days without singing to an audience."

She sighs, "I suppose you're right." Her eyes drift down the street and she stops at the corner, "I need to go to my dads' house to get ready."

The way the sun is glossing her hair over and how the light breeze is blowing the hair out of her face draws you to her. She takes a step forward and meets you in the middle. You fold her into your arms. She nuzzles into your neck and her breath slides down your neck to your collarbone before being swept away with the wind.

She takes a deep breath and exhales, "One."

The scent of her hair snakes into your senses and crawls through your body relaxing every single one of your muscles. "No more counting," you mumble into her hair.

"Hmm?" she pulls away and looks up at you.

"No more counting," you tenderly brush some hair out of her face, "It's stupid."

She smiles, "Good." She steps back into you and holds you close. "I like hugging you Quinn and three times a day wasn't doing it for me."

You stand like that on a street corner in your old neighborhood before you pull away, "We have to get ready."

She reluctantly pulls away and looks up at you. A content smile plays on her lips as she looks at you. You can practically feel her eyes tracing your face and you wish you knew what she was thinking. After watching her look at you for a few moments, her smile widens and she lets out a soft, "Oh."

"Oh what?" you ask.

She beams and gives you a last squeeze before disengaging completely, "I'll tell you later. Now we need to go get ready." She shoots you one last dazzling smile before turning around and walking off in the direction of her dads' house.

You watch her turn the corner before shaking your head. That girl. That girl that has you completely wrapped around her little finger.

When you get back to your house, you call Brittany and tell her that you got the keys. She thanks you several times before asking you to bring them to the wedding. You have to ask her what they're for and she tells you they're for the proposal before telling you she has to do. She hang up and toss your phone onto your bed. You knew they were to help with the proposal. You wanted to know what the keys were to.

You take approximately an hour to get dressed which is just about the time you hear the front doorbell. You put the finishing touches on your hair and look at yourself in the mirror not giving the doorbell a second thought.

You smooth out your light green dress. You wish it wasn't a wedding so you could wear your favorite white dress, but it's tacky for anyone besides the bride to wear white. Stupid fashion rules. There are far too many rules for weddings.

A wolf whistle from the door of your room stops your thoughts about weddings and the like. You move your head to the side to see your bedroom door in your mirror. Rachel is standing there looking radiant in a short, sleeveless cobalt blue dress with black heels.

You smile at her in the mirror before picking up your eye shadow to finish up, "What are you doing here?"

"I figured that you'd need a ride," she offers with a smile.

You watch her look around your room and sit on the bed before you look back at yourself in the mirror. "Thanks."

You hear her moving around on the bed and then get off of the bed. Her footsteps are silenced by the carpet so you don't know where she went. You quietly gasp when she materializes next to you. She leans back on your vanity and faces you. Sitting on the surface of your vanity causes her short dress to slide up even more. You have to concentrate really hard on applying your make up evenly because you're fighting you own eyes to keep them focused on the task at hand.

She over dramatically looked at her wrist what didn't actually have a watch on it and sighed audibly, "And I thought I took forever to get ready."

You drop your hand in your lap with the applicator in it in fake frustration, "Do you want to do this?"

"Yes," she says, snatching the applicator out of your hand. Her soft hands gently hold along your jaw, guiding your face so that she can finish your makeup for you. When she slowly, painstakingly slowly, pushes your hair away from your face.

You close your eyes more so you can try not to know close her lips are to yours than so she can do your makeup. You feel the brush softly brush over your eyelids. After a few seconds of nothing touching your face, you open one eye, "Done already?"

She's still leaned in close to you, but she seems frozen, looking at you. When you open your other eye she hurriedly puts the applicator back in the case and closes it, "Yeah. All done." She smiles. It's not her normal smile. She seems…nervous? Maybe. You can't really tell.

She grabs her clutch off of your vanity and stands, "Ready?"

You nod, "Yeah. You driving?"

"God no," she opens her clutch and hands you the keys, "I had to drive all the way over here."

"It's like two streets away," you smile.

"I was made for New York," she lets out a genuine smile so you're not very worried about her lapse earlier. You just lead the way out the door, keys in hand.


	19. Chapter 19

When you get to the church, you realize that showing up half an hour early wasn't necessary. Where you currently live, showing up half an hour early is cutting it close. If you get there later than that you run the risk of not finding a parking place in time, no having anywhere to sit, or not actually being able get in. But you both forgot that this is Lima and you could have shown up ten minutes late and there still would have been room for both of you and fifty of your closest friends.

You sit close to the same place you did when Mr. Schue found you alone and staring at stained glass. This time you don't feel as hopeless. Mostly because you've found out that you have quite possibly the worst overreactions of anyone on the planet, including the diva sitting next to you. You remember everything that Rachel told you last night and make a silent promise to you and to her to work on it. You know she'd appreciate it if you told her out loud and you would have if she weren't so busy looking around.

"Hey girls," Puck is the next one to arrive. He plops down next to you and lays his arm on the back of the pew behind you.

You look around. There are a few people you don't recognize walking in, but you don't see who you assumed was going to be his wedding date. "Lost your date?"

He hangs his head, "I didn't ask her."

"Noah Puckerman," you scold him, "You're braver than that. Not only braver, but you're a ladies' man. What the hell is wrong with you?"

"I don't know," he shrugs, "I mean, she's leaving in two days to go back to Chicago. What's the point?"

"The point is that you miss her and none of the girls left in this town are anything like her," you glance at the door and spot her walking in. You wave to her to get her attention so she can sit with you. "You can be a roofer anywhere. Hitch your trailer to that…." You frown because you know that's wrong.

You turn to look at Rachel who is smiling at you, "Hitch your wagon to that star."

"Hitch your wagon to that star," you relay to Puck who for the first time in his whole life looks nervous as he watches Lauren near.

You somehow maneuver it so that Lauren is sitting next to Puck. Brittany and Santana walk in together, turning heads as usual. They look slightly overdressed, but Brittany explained that it was because Santana refused to go dress shopping with her the week before they came here because she was studying so she was wearing her Tony dress. Brittany wore her Tony dress because she refused to go shopping without Santana.

That sent Rachel and Brittany into a whole conversation about how they were going to have to go Tony Awards dress shopping again because the dress you wear to the Tony's is meant to be worn once.

Everyone who was in glee club with you in high school is sitting either in your row or the one behind you. You feel an overwhelming sense of comfort drift over you being surrounded by them again. They're all good people and a tiny part of you will always belong to each and every single one of them.

When Santana stands up to hug someone you don't recognize, her one shouldered, short black dress clinging to her, Brittany leans across Rachel and whispers, "Do you have them?"

You nod and point to Rachel's clutch. You didn't want to have to carry your purse with you because it didn't match your dress so Rachel offered to carry your phone and the keys. Rachel opens her clutch and extracts the keys. Brittany manages to get the keys into her purse just as Santana sat back down. You're absolutely dying to know what those keys are to, but you know that you'll eventually find out.

You're surprised by the number of high school aged students in attendance. You smile because you know that he continues to change the lives of kids everyday, and maybe help a few like you who could have lost everything in high school without him.

When Sue walks in, your wide eyes move to Santana who is staring right back at you. A small smile is slowly growing on your friend's face. Your former coach is wearing black tracksuit bottoms with white stripes down the sides. She was wearing a white button down shirt under a black tracksuit top. Her glasses were perches on her nose and in her hand was a small black book that looked suspiciously like her journal.

She was followed by a group of students who, all dressed in the same pink and black, were in two lines. It was obvious that they are the current McKinley High glee club. The two lines part at the front and stand in rows on either side of the altar.

Then Mr. Schue walks down the isle and happily stands in front of everyone, smiling from ear to ear. The entire glee club starts humming at the same time before one of the guys started singing.

_It had to be you, it had to be you  
I wandered around, and finally found  
The somebody who could make me be true _

_It had to be you_

Everyone stands and you stand with them, all eyes craning to see Emma. She's standing in her very traditional looking white dress, with a white bouquet in her hand, blushing profusely. Her wide eyes look all around the room and finally settle on Mr. Schue.

_Could make me be blue or even be glad  
Just to be sad just thinking of you  
Some others I've seen might never be mean  
Might never be cross or try to be boss  
But they wouldn't do  
For nobody else gave me the thrill  
With all your faults I love you still  
It had to be you_

By the time the singing stopped, Emma was standing next to Mr. Schue. They're holding hands and smiling at each other. When you hear a sniffle next to you, you look to your side and see Rachel with a tiny trickle of tears down her cheeks. You rub her back and she looks at you with a smile.

When Sue tells everyone that it's time to be seated, Rachel wraps her arms around your arm closest to her and lets out a content sigh as she leans into you.

You don't really remember what happened after that. You know that Sue was talking and you know that there was a kiss and clapping, but what you remember most was how, as the vows were being read, Rachel laid her head on your shoulder and threaded her fingers through yours. They way your bodies just fit together made your heart soar.

It was quick and over before you knew it. Everyone is mingling around, waiting to head to the reception. You look over at Puck and see him smiling and laughing with Lauren. Finn is talking to a girl that you don't recognize. You figure she must be his date. She's not terribly unfortunate looking, but you're definitely prettier than her. Rachel is talking with Sam, Artie and Tina.

Santana walking toward the exit catches your eye. You watch as she disappears in the crowd until a hand on your elbow turns you around.

"Okay, I need you to come with me," Brittany says with a mischievous smile on her face.

"To do what?" you ask.

Brittany starts to drag you out of the church without question. She keeps looking over her shoulder like she's expecting someone to come running after you both. She unlocks a car that you've never seen before and you easily slide into the passengers' seat.

"Britt, what's going on?" you ask, looking at her as she drives.

"We're have to set everything up," she states, like it's obvious.

You take a second to try to figure out what she's talking about before giving up, "For what?"

She pulls to a stop in the parking lot of your former high school, "I'm proposing remember?"

"That's tonight?" you ask getting excited.

She nods and shoots out of the car. When she opens the trunk of the car you find at least five dozen assorted roses. You both carry them to the side door of the school. She uses the keys that you gave her to unlock the door to the school and then the door to the Cheerio locker room.

She gives you some vague instructions and you just start placing roses all around the locker room. You wonder why the locker room. As you think about it, you start looking around. It's a lot cleaner than you remember it and it smells a lot better. You mention this to Brittany who you can't see because she's in the back of the locker room, setting up something else.

"Coach had it cleaned," her voice echoes off of the lockers.

"For you?" you ask.

"Yeah."

Coach Sylvester never ceases to surprise you. She treats you like work horses all the way through high school and now she'll ask you how you are and have locker rooms cleaned for you.

When you run out of the first two dozen roses, you make your way to the back of the locker room. Brittany's setting up candles and flowers all around a bench in the back. You lean on the lockers and watch her thoughtfully arrange everything, "Why the locker room?"

"It's the first place we kissed," she smiles wistfully. "I wanted to do it the first place we had sex, but I couldn't make that happen."

"Why not?" you have to ask.

She shrugs and looks at the whole scene she's set up, "Because Santana sold that car before she moved to California."

Well, you asked. You pull Brittany to you and give her a hug. "I'm so happy for you guys."

"Thanks," she smiles and hugs you back. "Will you be my maid of honor?"

You chuckle, "You haven't even asked her to marry you yet."

"I will and she'll say yes," Brittany grins, "I can ask you after if you want."

"No, it's fine. I'll definitely be your maid of honor," she throws her arms around you when you tell her.

You leave Brittany in the locker room and run into Santana as she walks in the side door of the building, "Have you see Britt?"

"Locker room," you smile and give her a hug before walking off, leaving her behind you confused.

When you walk into the gym, it makes you laugh how much it looks like the two proms that you went to. There were a few differences like that the huge doors on the side of the gym were open and leading to an outdoor patio where people were already dancing. There a bar on the patio and you're sure it has something to do with having alcohol inside of a public school. Inside the gym, there were tables set up with buffets along the sides of the gym.

You don't see Rachel in the crowd, but you knew she's there. You decide to head out to the patio set up because you hear music coming from outside. You're surprised to find Sam with an acoustic guitar behind a microphone. He's singing a soft sweet song that makes you smile. You spot the bar and walk up to it. You see a sign behind the bar telling how much each drink costs.

You don't know if it's the wedding or the mood of the people around you, but you're feeling generous. So once a small fortune has been charged to your credit card, the sign behind the bar is gone and it's an open bar. You get some champagne and sip it as you watch Sam. He sees you watching him sing and shoots you a wink before going back to singing.

Kurt slides up next to you, "Oh my god, have you smelled Finn's new girlfriend yet?"

"Smelled?" you ask. He's eyeing her and you look over at her and Finn. They look happy.

"Apparently she not only sells perfume, but bathes in it," Kurt raises his eyebrows to you.

You laugh although you know you shouldn't.

He glances around, "Where's your _roommate_?"

After scanning the crowd you finally spot her. She's laughing with Puck. When she tilts her head back as she laughs you can't help but smile because it sweeps her hair away from her face and the lights make her whole face glow.

"That look on your face is precious," Kurt slaps his hand to his chest, "But please go do something about it."

"I'm going to ask her out when we get back to New York," you explain, "There's a lot going on here."

"What else is going on?" he asks and looks around, "The wedding is over. This is just the after party."

Just as you open your mouth to reply a yell is heard throughout the reception. And you know exactly who just yelled, "I'm engaged bitches!"

Kurt ran off to ogle Santana's ring with all the other former New Direction's members.

"You didn't come pick up your car," Finn says when he leans on the bar next to you.

"Sorry," your eyes seek out Rachel who is gushing over Santana's ring, "I got sidetracked. First thing tomorrow?"

He shrugs, "Whenever you want."

You sip your champagne and turn fully to him, "You didn't happen to put those ridiculously expensive Italian tires on my car did you?"

He chuckles, "The five hundred dollar each tires? No, although Mom wanted to."

You look over at Finn's date who is talking with someone you don't recognize. You hope she keeps making him happy.

A clearing of a throat next to you steals your attention. You turn and find yourself face to face with Rachel. Her heels make her as tall as you so your eyes immediately lock with hers. There's a smile on her face that makes you weak in the knees.

"Where have you been?" she has her hands on her hips.

You down the rest of your drink, "Helping Brittany. I see you waited for me."

"Mike said he saw you and Brittany drive off. I figured that you'd make your way here." She leans around you and look at your ex-husband. "Finn, may I borrow Quinn for a moment?"

Finn lets out a goofy smile and nods, "Take your time."

You shoot him a forced look of disapproval. He just laughs at you and walks away to join his date.

When you look back at Rachel, she extends her hand to you, "Dance with me."

For a moment, you're sure the look on your face is blank. You're completely caught on your heels and you don't know what to say. So she giggles and pulls you out onto the near empty dance floor.

The song that Sam starts playing is vaguely familiar, but it's easy to sway to. You can feel Rachel's fingers lace together at the small of your back and you slip your arms around her neck.

"So when we get back to New York we're going on a date," she states just as you've gotten used to the feeling of her arms around you as you sway and the tingling look you get when there are a lot of people watching you.

Your eyes were half closed, but now they're fully open, "Wha-what?"

"We're going on a date because I have feelings for you and you have feelings for me and nothing else matters." She looks you dead in the eyes, "I know you're scared. I'm scared too but I want us not to waste this time because life is too short and all that jazz. And I know you want this too." She caresses your face with a knowing smile, "Almost as much as I do."

You look up at her and know that you're scared. You're terrified. You've never entertained the possibility of her actually reciprocating any feelings. And now it's all too real. And since you've never thought about it, you never made a plan of action. You're a planner. You like schedules and set courses of action. You've been in such a haze since she told you that you haven't made any plans. Time with Rachel lately has been unplanned, unscripted and some of the most freeing moments of your life.

You look deep into her eyes and find solidarity in her conviction. You know for sure that she wants this and for sure that she wants you. "Tell me the part again about nothing else mattering."

She grins and leans forward, meshing your lips together. The kiss is short and she doesn't linger very long very close to your lips before whispering in your ear, "We have feelings for each other and none of the rest of it matters."

You feel like she stole all of the air in the world with that kiss. You close your eyes and rest your forehead against hers. You have to ask, "Are you sure?"

"Absolutely," she smiles and kisses you again.

You let out a relieved sigh and pull back to look at her face, "I have a condition to the date."

"Yeah?" she asks, eyebrows raised, looking a little skeptical.

"I get to take you out on the date," you state. You have the perfect date in mind and it'll take a few days to get this all set up.

She nods, "I have a condition to this condition." You giggle a nod, urging her on. "No sports bars."

After a full laugh you nod, "Of course not. I can do better than that."

"Just making sure," she pulls you closer and rests her cheek against yours, quietly singing along with Sam.

_Breathe in, breathe out,  
Tell me all of your doubts,  
And everybody bleeds this way,  
Just the same.  
_   
_Breathe in, breathe out,  
Move on and break down,  
If everyone goes away I will stay.  
_   
_We push and pull,  
And I fall down sometimes,  
I'm not letting go,  
You hold the other line.  
_   
_Cause there is a light in your eyes, in your eyes.  
_   
_Hold on hold tight,  
From out of your sight,  
If everything keeps moving on, moving on,  
Hold on hold tight,  
Make it through another night,  
& everyday there comes a song with the dawn,  
We push and pull and I fall down sometimes,  
I'm not letting go,  
You hold the other line.  
_   
_Cause there is a light, in your eyes, in your eyes.  
There is a light, in your eyes, in your eyes._

_Breathe in, and breathe out._   
_Breathe in, and breathe out._   
_Breathe in, and breathe out._   
_Breathe in, and breathe out._

_Look left look right,_   
_To the moon in the night._   
_And everything under the stars is in your arms._

"I realized today-just looking at you, that I am one hundred percent sure that I want to move forward with our relationship," she adds as the song ends.

You pull back to look at her, "That's…why didn't you tell me then?"

"Where's the romance in that?" she smiles, "Here, we're dancing under the stars, all dressed up, looking utterly fabulous if I do say so myself." She pauses for you to laugh, "I'm a romantic and underneath all that non-romantic is a romantic as well."

"You wish," you tease her and run your fingers through her hair.

She looks you over and adds, "When I was doing your make-up I almost kissed you."

"I knew something was up," you point at her.

She takes your hand and kisses your knuckles, "I've been told by numerous people that I don't hide my affections well. Kurt told me all the way over here that my goo-goo eyes at you were the most obvious thing ever."

She dips her head down and drops a tender kiss on the just below your ear. You close your eyes, feeling your stomach drop. "Rach, you should…probably keep it PG for a while. At least until after our date."

Her hair tickles your shoulder when she pulls back with a smile, "I know. I couldn't help myself. We can keep it PG for a while if you want."

You tighten your arms and press your bodies together. You don't even know if there's music anymore. You're swaying with her. "We need to talk later."

She closes her arms and you feel your hips press hard against hers. You're about to drag her into the bathroom and you know that's not how either of you want to start this relationship. You just close your eyes and bury your face in her neck. You know it's okay with her when she dances you both to the edge of the dance floor and keeps tenderly stroking the small of your back with her fingers.

"Hey," Santana's voice breaks you apart.

You look up at her with a smile, knowing why she's interrupting your moment. She doesn't add anything, she just hangs her left hand out in front of her. You disengage from Rachel who lets out a small whimper. You smile at her and take her hand, threading your fingers through hers. Then you take Santana's hand with your free one and examine the ring like you've never seen it before.

"Congratulations," you look over Santana's shoulder at Brittany who is practically beaming. You let go of Rachel's hand for a moment to pull them into a three-way hug. "I love you guys."

"Yeah you too," Santana mumbles. Then she smiles at you, "You have to tell me how you got together with Berry when we get back to New York cause if you tell me now I wouldn't remember. The only thing in my brain right now is," she tilts her head up and calls out, "I'm engaged bitches!"

You laugh at her and shake your head. She spots someone she hasn't shown her ring to and drags Brittany along with her.

"Hey guys," Puck walks up to you both and puts an arm around each of you, "Mr. Schue wants to know if anyone else wants to perform because the current New Directions members are having some kind of meltdown because of something stupid. Boyfriend stealing or some shit like that."

You and Rachel share a knowing smile before she nod, "I'm sure I can throw something together." She pauses, "Go get Mike, Finn, and Sam and meet me in the choir room."

He nods with a smirk. Then walks off. He pauses a few steps away and turns back to you, "By the way," he motions between the two of you, "Totally hot."

You both laugh as he walks away. Then you look at her, "Need any help or can I grab some more champagne?"

"Oh I got this," she grins, "Just be in the gym in ten minutes and hold my clutch?" She gives you a chaste peck on the lips as you take the clutch from her and she disappears into the crowd.

You find Brittany at the bar with two glasses of champagne in her hand. "Where's your fiancée?"

"She's on the phone with her mom," Brittany smiles and points with her eyes to an area between the football field and the dance patio where Santana is pacing back and forth, gesturing emphatically with a hugest smile on her face.

You feel the clutch vibrate in your hand so set your drink down and dig out the device that's causing the interruption. Rachel's phone is lit up and buzzing, displaying the word AGENT. You silence the phone and place it back in her purse. You hope it's something that can wait because if she got the lead in a Broadway Revival of Evita and she didn't find out immediately you know she'll kill you.

You decide to go into the gym because you're not sure how long Rachel's been gone, but you don't want to miss anything. Inside, most of the people are sitting at the tables enjoying their meal. You find Tina, Mercedes and Artie sitting down and take an empty seat next to Mercedes. She immediately puts her arm around you, "Congratulations girl."

"For what?" you ask, eyeing her food. You haven't actually eaten dinner….or lunch for that matter.

"Rachel," Mercedes giggles, "I saw you get your mack on outside."

You duck your head and blush. You're not sure how to respond and thankfully you don't have to. Mr. Schue is walking up the ramp onto the small stage with a microphone in his hand. Once everyone quiets down, he brings the microphone to his lips, "I'd like to thank everyone for coming. It means so much to Emma and me." He pauses, "And there's been some complications with tonight's entertainment, but luckily, I know some extremely talented people. So, without further ado, we have a performance by one of my former students and current Broadway star, Rachel Berry."

The lights go down on him and shine on the doors in the back of the gym. The music starts to a song that brings a smile to your lips. The double doors burst open and Puck, Mike, Finn, and Sam wheel in a black piano. Sitting on the side of the black piano, facing away from the crowd with one leg crossed over the other and a microphone was Rachel Berry.

The boys swivel the piano and a spotlight shines on her as she starts singing as they continue to wheel her on the piano, rotating, toward the stage.

_Don't tell me not to live just sit and putter_

_Life's candy and the suns a ball of butter_

_Don't bring around a cloud to rain on my parade_

_Don't tell me not to fly I've simply got to_

_If someone takes so spill it me and not you_

_Who told you you're allowed to rain on my parade?_

They continue wheeling her to the stage and up the ramp until the piano is in the middle of the stage. She easily slides onto her feet and walks to the front of the stage.

_I'll march my band out. I'll beat my drum._

_And if I fanned out, you're turn at bat sir_

_At least I didn't take it hat sir. I guess I didn't fake it_

_Get ready for my love cause I'm a comer._

_I've simply got to march my to drummer._

_No body oh nobody. Is gonna rain on my parade._

That last note brings the house down. Everyone is on their feet, clapping and cheering. You see numerous phones and cameras out, trying to capture the magic that is Rachel Berry. You've never been more proud in your life because that beautiful, talented, extremely amazing woman agreed to go on a date with you. You've never felt luckier.

On the stage, Mike appears with a microphone stand and Finn with a piano bench. They both set them up so that Rachel can sit in front of the piano and have a microphone she can sing into. She smiles at the crowd and runs a scale on the piano as she talks, "I owe a lot to Mr. Schuster. He taught me the value of humility and modesty," you chuckle along with the rest of your fellow glee clubbers. "I also owe him for bringing me together with some amazing people. Most of us haven't seen each other in years and we come together like we never left McKinley." She plays the chords of a song that you immediately recognize. Mostly because she's made you watch the movie at least twice. "So I am honored to be able to sing at his wedding. When I say this, I think I speak for all my fellow glee clubbers past and present when I say Mr. Schue and Ms. Pillsbury…finally, right?"

A round of laughter rose from the crowd before Rachel starts singing again.

_No more talk of darkness,  
Forget these wide-eyed fears.  
I'm here, nothing can harm you  
My words will warm and calm you._

The way she closes her eyes when she sings, completely melts you. You know that by the end of this performance she could get you to do pretty much whatever she wanted you to do. You have to roll your eyes at yourself for being that easy.

_Let me be your freedom,  
Let daylight dry your tears.  
I'm here, with you, beside you,  
To guard you and to guide you_

_Then say you love me every winter morning,  
Turn my head with talk of summertime  
Say you need me with you, now and always  
Promise me that all you say is true  
That's all I ask of you _

As she's singing, you see Puck, Brittany, and Santana quickly walk toward the front of the gym and then out the doors. You wonder what they're up to. If Puck _and_ Santana are in cahoots then it's serious.

_Let me be your shelter,  
Let me be your light.  
You're safe: no-one will find you  
Your fears are far behind you_

_Let me lead you from your solitude  
Say you need me with you here, beside you  
Anywhere you go, let me go too  
That's all I ask of you_

The audience erupts all over again. You stand along with everyone else. She just smiles and continues to sit at the piano. She adjusts the microphone and looks out over the audience, squinting against the lights. "Let's see who else I can drag up here…"

Your heart starts racing as she finds you and her smile widens. You shake your head, but she just rolls her eyes at you and says, "Ladies and Gentlemen, straight from her New York City debut, Quinn Fabray singing one of her favorite songs…'I've Never Been in Love Before'."

You initially resist, Kurt and Mercedes pushing you toward the stage until Rachel pleads to you with her gorgeous, brown eyes that you would look at for days. Finally you huff and walk up to the stage. She accompanies you on the piano. Once again she picks a short song for you to sing, which actually is one of your favorites.

When everyone claps you graciously bow, but practically run off of the stage.

Puck reappears in jeans and a black v-neck and helps the guys push the piano off of the stage and off to the side. He walks back onto the stage with a wireless microphone in his hand. "Okay now this is a dance song so everyone on your feet!"

Rachel walks over to you and pulls you to your feet, smiling sweetly in an apology for making you sing in public. When the music starts you drop your head on her shoulder and start laughing.

Puck calls out, "Ladies and Gentlemen. This is a Puckfizzle Producshizzle. Brittany!" Just he says her name Brittany does a back handspring onto the stage and then steps to the side, a microphone headset by her mouth, in a resurrected baggy black pant/black 'New York City' shirt complete with black hat that she must have resurrected from the glee costume closet. "The Princess is here!" Then he and Brittany yell, "Santana!"

Santana struts onto the stage with a wireless headset on as well. She's in painted on jeans and a white button down shirt that's tied in the middle so her midriff is showing.

Brittany meets her in the middle of the stage and says, "This beat is-"

Santana takes over as Mike jumps up on the stage in all black dancing backup with Brittany.

_Automatic, supersonic, hypnotic, funky fresh  
Work my body, so melodic this beat flows right through my chest  
Everybody, ma and papi came to party, grab somebody  
Work your body, work your body, let me see you 1, 2 step_

_Rock it, don't stop it  
Everybody get on the floor  
Crank the party up  
We about to get it on_

_Let me see ya, 1, 2 step_   
_I love it when ya, 1, 2 step_   
_Everybody, 1, 2 step_   
_We about to get it on_

They've cleaned up the dance a little since the time they did it in the glee club. The things Brittany and Santana do with each other are still pushing it, but this time you don't feel like you're watching an X-rated movie.

You glance at your dance partner who is just holding your hand and bopping to the music. She is, as always, adorable.

_We gon' drop the beat like this, ooh wee_

_It don't matter to me, we can dance slow_   
_Which ever way the beat drop, our bodies will go_   
_So swing it over here, Mr. DJ_   
_And we will, we will rock you_

Santana stops her dance and motions to the head table, "Mr. Schue get up here and One, Two Step."

You look over Rachel's shoulder, but know that he cannot resist dancing to some old school R&B. Everyone claps when he takes off his jacket and walks up to the stage. He starts dancing with Mike, Brittany and Santana like he isn't a day older than them as Brittany raps.

_I shake it like jello, make the boys say hello  
'Cause they know I'm rockin' the beat  
I know you heard about a lot of great MC's  
But they ain't got nothing on me_

_Because I'm 5 foot 8, I wanna dance with you_   
_And I'm sophisticated fun_   
_I eat fillet mignon and I'm nice and young_   
_Best believe I'm number one_

Santana takes over and walks to the front of the stage, motioning for everyone to start dancing. The whole crowd in front of her starts doing the simple step, step hop as she finishes up the song. Rachel drags you to the space between the tables where other people are dancing and does it with you, laughing the whole time.

_Rock it, don't stop it  
Everybody get on the floor  
Crank the party up  
We about to get it on_

_Let me see ya, 1, 2 step_   
_I love it when ya, 1, 2 step_   
_Everybody, 1, 2 step_   
_We about to get it on_

After that song, all the past and present members of New Directions in attendance do a rendition of 'Don't Stop Believin'" that makes Mr. Schue cry. By that time everyone was about ready to go home and the newly weds were ready to get on their way to their honeymoon.

You and Rachel decide that you've had too much to drink to drive so you're both content to just walk. After saying goodbye to Brittany and Santana who were flying back to New York in mere hours so Brittany could get to work and Santana wouldn't miss class (and saying goodbye to the ring which Santana made sure to show you again) you hugged all of the people that you went to high school with. You'll miss them and exchange e-mails and phone numbers with all of them, but you're happy to be going back to New York. With just you and Rachel and your whole overcomplicated relationship.

As you walk back to her dads' house, so you can drop her off chivalrously as she's pointed out, she takes your hand and swings your joined hands between you.

As you turn the corner, away from the school, she says, looking up at the stars twinkling against the midnight sky, "I've known that my non-platonic feelings for you are real for a while now. And there are two reasons I've waited this long to tell you."

You stop on the corner of the street to unbuckle the heels that have been killing you for a couple hours now and prod, "And they are?"

She kneels down and helps you with your balance before sitting on the grass of someone's front yard as she takes off her own, "The first reason was to placate you. I knew you'd be skeptical if I didn't take at least a week."

You smile because she does know you so well and you're amused by her frank honesty, "And the second reason?" You hold your hands out and she takes them so you can pull her to your feet.

"You're my best friend, Quinn. I was scared that if we did embark on this and something happened... I don't want to lose you completely. I know I'm a lot to deal with. I'm very high maintenance and sometimes I'm clingy and I'm needy and sometimes I'm every bad stereotype of a girl there is which doesn't make for a very good girlfriend most of the time. You're patient but patience runs out." She stands there, looking at you a good three inches shorter than you without her crazy high heels.

You take a deep breath. You know all of these things and you've thought about them at length. It'd be a lie if you said you weren't worried about her little quirks clashing with your longer-than-in-high-school-but-still-short temper. But you've been working on it. And you will continue to for as long as you're with her. "We'll take it as we go," you assure her and start walking, sliding your hand into hers again. "Besides, we have one week until our first date. That's plenty of time for you to think it over and change your mind."

She squeals and looks at you with wide eyes, "One week? How am I supposed to wait one week?"

You're delighted that she's excited. You squeeze her hand and assure her, "It'll be worth it. I promise."

She sighs, with an over exaggerated pout as you both stop in front of her dads' house. You pull her into a hug and feel her lean into you. "Kiss me?" she mumbles against your shoulder.  
How can you say no to that? You pull back and lightly brush your lips against hers. She let's out a soft moan and pushes up on her toes to deepen the kiss, your lips sliding together and grappling to stay together. Finally you pull away. You know you're both semi-drunk and making out in public isn't the best publicity she could get. Plus you're in front of her dads' house and you may die if one of them actually caught you kissing their little girl. And besides, you don't want to do too much before your first date. Just because you didn't start this the most traditional way doesn't mean that you don't want to stick to a traditional post-first date timeline. That means no sex on her dads' lawn, no matter how hot she is.

"You going to pick me up in the morning?" she asks, pulling you into another hug.

"Mhmm," you hum into her hair before kissing the side of her head, "Sweet dreams." If anyone else had said that, you'd roll your eyes and fake a gag, but Rachel's vicinity makes idiotic, sappy things come out of your mouth and you just grin like a fool.

"Goodnight Quinn," she pulls away and smiles at you before turning up the walkway and disappearing into her dads' house.

As you walk back to your mom's house, a car drives up next to you and the glare of the light blinds you for a moment. Before your eyes adjust the siren of "I'm engaged bitch!" and you laugh.

Brittany's driving the car and Santana is leaning over her, so she can communicate with you. Brittany pulls the car over and you walk up to the driver's side window, "Congratulations guys."

You can tell that Santana has been drinking a lot, but Brittany looks perfectly lucid. You grin at Brittany, "Rethinking your proposal?"

The choreographer laughs and looks at Santana who is almost out the other window yelling at someone walking down the other side of the street. She shrugs, "I guess I'm stuck with her now." She glances at the shoes in your hand, "Need a ride?"

"Nah," you shake your head, "My mom's house is only a block away. I'm happy for you B. Really." You jerk your head toward Santana who is now fully back into the car, unbuttoning her shirt, "You should probably get her to bed soon before she's running down the street, naked, ringing on people's doorbells just so she can tell them she's engaged."

Brittany laughs and nods, "Wanna meet me for lunch on Tuesday?"

"Sure," you nod, "See you later."

With a final wave, Brittany pulls away. You watch their taillights disappear as they turn down a different street. When you get back to your mom's house, all the lights are off except for the one in the entryway. You quietly make your way up the stairs and into your room. You unzip your dress and let it pool at your feet, not bothering to hang it up before falling into bed.

You roll onto your side and pull a pillow to you. It's not the exact consistency of Rachel, but it'll do. You smile into the pillow as you drift off to sleep thinking that this trip back to Lima wasn't so bad after all.

* * *

Holy song lyrics Batman. The songs used in this chapter are:

It Had To Be You - Frank Sinatra/Harry Connick Jr.

Breath In, Breath Out - Mat Kearney

Don't Rain On My Parade - THE Barbra Streisand

All I Ask Of You - Barbra Streisand

I've Never Been In Love Before - Frank Sinatra

1, 2 Step - Ciara featuring Missy Elliot

Don't Stop Believin' - Journey


	20. Chapter 20

When you get up the next morning, you take a quick shower and descend the stairs. Before you get to the kitchen you hear talking and pots and pans being moved around. You figure it it's your mom and your sister. You wonder when they turned into Stepford Wives with all the cooking. You were actually planning to take them out to breakfast.

You push open the door to the kitchen and find more people than you expected. Along with your mother and sister, Eliot and Steve are sitting at the kitchen table drinking coffee.

"Good morning," you mom smiles at you. She walks over and gives you a one armed hug, handing you a cup of coffee with the other hand.

You mumble something that sounds vaguely like 'morning' as you scan the kitchen. Eliot smiles kindly as you, "Rachel's asleep on the couch in the study. Maybe you should wake her up so we can eat breakfast and get you two on the road on time."

You nod to him and take your coffee with you to the study. You pause at the door because you never went in here. This was your dad's place and no one was allowed into it without him being there. So you haven't been in there since you were…was it twelve…maybe eleven. You were okay to just walk past it and avert your eyes.

Rachel certainly doesn't seem to have a problem because when you tentatively step inside, she's completely passed out on the couch. She's facing the back of the couch and curled up against the pillows. You take a minute to look around the room. Your mom has changed it. The four foot tall humidor is gone as is the whiskey bar. In their places are your mom's crochet basket and a small TV. The 'manly' books your dad had have been replaced by current best sellers and the romance novels that your mom loves so much. The dark curtains that used to hang are now a light lilac color and make the room brighter.

You feel your body relax in the room. It's not your dad's anymore. Your mom has taken it over and made it her own. You're proud of your mom. She's become stronger than you've ever imagined.

Then you turn to the most important non-relative woman in your life. You sit on the edge of the couch next to her feet and rest your hand on her sweater covered side and gently rub her side with your thumb, "Wake up sleepyhead." You know she's a light sleeper so it won't take much.

Her eyes slowly open and she rolls onto her back. Your hand is now on her stomach still continuing the sweet mini massage. Her hair has fallen into her eyes and she sleepily pushes it out of her face with a smile, "Good morning."

You offer the coffee with an echo of her greeting. She pushes up on her elbows and takes a sip before handing it back to you and laying back down. You examine what she's wearing and let out a snort. You know it wasn't the most attractive thing in the world, but apparently she's run out of clean clothes from New York because she's in a sweater from her high school days, black with white bunnies on it no less. You check for her sinfully short skirt and are disappointed to find black tights covering her legs under the skirt. You ask her if she ran out of clean clothes and she giggles and nods.

"Well you look hot," you say with a small pat on her stomach before moving to stand. She grabs your hand and pulls you back down. She has a coy smile on her face as she places your hand back on her stomach. You smile back, "So why didn't you come upstairs? My bed is definitely big enough for two."

She chuckles, "Well I started to before your mom pointedly offered me the couch. I don't think she wants us making babies up in your room."

Your cheeks burn with a blush, but she just smiles at you. She sits up again and this time captures your lips is quite possibly the best good morning kiss of your life. You feel her fingers tenderly hold your cheeks as her lips lightly massage your own.

A clearing of a throat behind you causes you to go rigid and pull away. You close your eyes and pray harder than you've ever prayed that it isn't Steve. Thankfully Frannie's laugh is the one that's heard behind you, "That was hilarious. You should have seen your faces."

You open your eyes to see Rachel blushing profusely and sheepishly smiling. You turn and glare at your sister, but she just laughs harder. When she catches her breath she asks, "Are you guys ready to go?"

You look at Rachel who nods, so you stand and help her up. As you walk past your sister, out the door you see her catch Rachel's arm. Your sister's face is serious when she says, "We need to have a little talk so you're going to ride with me okay?"

Rachel's eyes grow wide and she looks to you. You're just as stunned as her so she looks back at Frannie with a slow nod. Frannie smiles, "Awesome." She lets go of Rachel and walks back into the kitchen.

Rachel shoots you a look that begs for advice or help. You just shrug. Your sister has never done anything like this before and when you're about to tell Rachel that her parents and your mother and sister walk out of the kitchen.

"C'mon Quinn," Steve smiles at you, "We'll drop you off at the tire shop to get your car."

You scan for Rachel to see if she can give you any cues, but find that she's already been swept away by your mother and sister. You try to get into the backseat of the Berry car, but Eliot insists that you sit in the front seat with Steve.

"Okay, what are the three points I told you about if you date Rachel?" Steve asks as he takes off toward the tire shop.

You gulp and pause for a moment to think before rattling off, "Treat her well, fidelity, and brown is not a wedding color."

"Very good," he smiles and glances at you as you end up on the street where the tire shop is, "Treating her well encompasses a lot of things. What do you suppose some of them are?"

Your mouth goes dry. This is a test that you certainly didn't get a chance to study for. "Respect, courteousness, politeness?…" you're very quickly running out of things to say.

They both let out a laugh and Eliot leans forward, "Honey that's how you treat a teacher. This isn't the first day of school. Although all of those still apply."

"I believe that you know what we mean when we say treat her well," Steve pulls the car over in front of the tire shop, "You're a smart girl Quinn and we believe that you do love Rachel and you will respect her. It's a precarious situation you two are in. Her feelings are new and your feelings are years old, add that to the fact that you're best friends and you live together? I don't think it's going to be as easy as both of you think it is. Especially Rachel. Before she starts things she thinks everything is going to end up like a fairytale. We just want you both to go into this with the understanding that it's not going to be all rainbows and sunshine."

You slowly nod, absorbing everything he has to say. You're still stunned by her asking you out on a date, you haven't actually thought past that. He's making some really valid points.

Eliot adds, "And please stop making her think that she can make oatmeal. That's why we called to see what you were doing for breakfast because she made us breakfast and is completely convinced that it's edible."

You chuckle and nod, "Okay."

"Thank you for listening Quinn," Steven pulls you into a hug, "You've made me feel a hundred percent better about this."

You accept the hug, but get out of the car as fast as you can. You walk up to the front of the tire shop without looking back and hear their car drive off. When you step inside, you're relieved to find Burt at the front counter instead of Carol. He smiles at you, "Hey Quinn."

"Hey," you smile back. You feel like you're on a roll with dads today. Steve and Eliot approve of you dating Rachel and Burt doesn't hate your guts. You'd call that a good start to your day.

Burt scans the wall and picks up a clip board, "Four new tires and an oil change?"

You nod, "That sounds right." You don't wait for him to tell you how much, you just hand over your credit card. You know that when you get home you'll be eating at home for a while until the sale of that amazing apartment that you really wish you could have goes through in a few days. The good news is that the buyers you found seems to love it as much as you do.

He swipes your card and hands it back to you, "It's good to see you Quinn. You look good."

You let out a smile, "Thanks. You do too."

"Finn's in the garage," he says, "He'll get you your keys."

You nod and walk through the back door, hearing the ringing of the front door opening behind you. You want to get out of their hair so they can get back to their current customers. You step into the garage and see Finn standing over a car, scratching his head in his jumpsuit.

He looks over when he sees you coming, "Hey."

"Hey," you smile back.

"You heading out?" he asks, grabbing your keys off of the peg on the wall behind him.

You nod and stand next to him in front of the open car, "Yeah. Rachel's got a show tonight. We're having breakfast with our parents then we're leaving from there."

He turns around to the cluttered desk and picks up a new paper, "Check it out." He hands you the front page. There's a picture of Rachel standing in front of the past and present glee club from last night. The headline reads, "Broadway Star Returns to Lima To Sing At Former Teacher's Wedding."

Your eyes continue scanning the page. It was dotted with a few smaller pictures. You see one of you and Rachel dancing to Santana's 1,2 Step and smile.

"You can have that one," Finn offers, "I have another one at home."

"Thanks," you tuck it into your purse, "I guess I should go before Rachel, Frannie, and Mom start telling embarrassing stories about me."

He chuckles and hugs you again, "Let me know next time you're in town. We can go have a drink and talk about our girlfriends."

You laugh. It's so much easier to be around him now that you're not both miserable. When the door to the front of the shop opens, his eyes flicker over to it, but you ignore it, "We'll see. I haven't even taken her on our first official date…" You trail off when you see his smile disappear.

You start to turn around to see who he's frowning at, but he grabs your shoulder to stop you from turning around. "Don't look," he says quietly with a stern seriousness he's never spoken to you with, "Just walk with me to your car." He slides his arm around your shoulders and effectively shields you from whoever is at the door.

You hear Burt talking about a tire or something and you wait to hear who else is talking. Finn was starting to freak you out and you had to know who was there. It couldn't be his mom because he could easily diffuse that situation. Then when you hear the voice of the other person your heart sink into your stomach and you aren't sure you could walk any more.

"Quinn?" Finn asks concerned as he leads you out the door. You didn't hear him because of the whirling sound in your ears. You didn't hear him ask you if you were okay to drive because you heard the voice of the only man in the world that you venomously despise. "Quinn?"

You're almost to your car when you turn around and see him. Russell Fabray is looking right at you. He puts his hands in the pockets of his over priced slacks and sizes you up. "I thought I saw you in the paper this morning." His face still shows the same disapproval it did the last time you saw him, the night he kicked you out of your house. You know what's about to come out of his mouth. You saw the line in the paper about the speculation of you and Rachel being an item.

"Leave her alone," Finn states with a forced finality.

Russell's face gets hard, "You watch your tone with me son."

"Excuse me?" Burt asks, turning to Russell, "That's _my_ son. And I think if all you're going to do in _my_ shop is harass nice girls then you can leave. In fact, I'll show you out myself."

"I meant nothing ill toward your son," Russell adds, "I was just wonder what he's doing with _her_."

The way he says 'her' makes you want to vomit. Your knees buckle and Finn catches you before you fall. He turns you around and keeps you walking toward you car. He opens the driver's door for you and sets you in the seat, kneeling in front of you. You didn't even know you were crying until the wind makes your cheeks cold from the tears.

"I can drive you to wherever you need to go okay?" he asks, quietly trying to catch your eyes.

You hear yelling behind you and turn around to see Russell and Burt yelling at each other. You hear words like 'slut' and 'sinner' spew from Russell's mouth. The tears come harder and faster. You could kick your own ass for letting him get to you again.

Finn gets up and walks back over to the two men, making sure things don't get physical. You've had enough. You can't take anymore so you shove your key in the ignition and drive off. You don't even look in the rearview mirror. You just drive.

You know where you're supposed to meet everyone and you sit in the parking lot of the restaurant for a good five minutes before your phone rings. You look at the screen and see that Finn is calling you.

"Hello?" you ask, your voice breaking.

"Hey, are you okay?" he asks, "Do you need me to come pick you up and take you to Rachel?"

You rest your forehead on the steering wheel, "No. I'm already here…sorta. I'm in the parking lot. He didn't hit Burt did he?"

"No," Finn's voice grew lighter, "He went for it, but I got there first. I can't tell you how good that felt. He said he's pressing charges but Burt's friends with the police chief so I'm not worried. You okay?"

You take a deep breath, "I will be." You look up at the restaurant and see the group that's waiting for you. They're seated by the window, all laughing. You don't want to be a wet blanket at this breakfast. You sigh, "Thanks Finn."

"No problem," he says, "Call me if you need anything else okay?"

"Okay," you rest your head on the steering wheel again, hoping that no one at the table can see you, "Thanks again."

"No problem," he adds, "Be safe. Bye."

"Bye," you say and hang up. You guess that you need to fix your make up before you go inside because if you don't go in soon, your mom or Rachel will sent out a search party.

You fleetingly think about calling your mom so you can talk about what happened, but this weekend has been an emotional roller coaster for her and you don't want to drag her into this mess. So you decide it's better to just redo your makeup and pretend like it didn't happen.

But when you get into the restaurant your resolve diminishes. You see your mom laughing and you don't want her to know what happened. She's happy. So you put on a smile and walk up to the table. You're sort of glad that the only open chair is on the opposite end of the table from Rachel and your mom. You know if anyone figures out that you've been upset, it's them.

You keep quiet on your end of the table, laughing when you're supposed to and avoiding eye contact with your relatives and Rachel. Eliot seems to notice something, but when you politely smile at him, he smiles back with a nod and doesn't say anything about it.

You see Rachel watching you from the other end of the table. When you smile, trying to get her to relax, she just studies you harder. So you engage Eliot in a conversation.

After breakfast, you excuse yourself to go to the bathroom. You figure that you if you want to get Rachel back in time you need to limit your bathroom breaks. When you finish and open the stall door, leaning on the sink and staring at you is your mother.

"Quinn," her arms are crossed, "What's wrong?"

You sigh and shake your head, "You're having fun. I don't want to-"

"Quinn Fabray," she says sternly, "Tell you mother what had you crying in your car."

You move to the sink to try to get over the shock that she actually saw you. You turn on the water, put some soap in your hand and stick your hands in the water, "I um, ran into Russell at the tire shop." You turn off the water and dry off your hands with some paper towels.

"Oh honey," she takes you into her arms, "You can tell me these things. I don't care if I just won the lottery or a date with George Clooney. You tell me."

You chuckle against her shoulder, but will tears back into your eyes. You know they're going to fall, you just don't want enough for Rachel to notice. You have a long ride home for her to question you about what happened.

"Are you okay?" she asks, "Did he hurt you?"

"Not physically," you pull away and wipe your eyes. You realize that you didn't bring your purse with you into the bathroom so there's no fixing your mascara. You take a deep breath and look at yourself in the mirror. There's minimal runnage so you figure that you can fix it without your purse. "Finn laid him out though."

"Good for him," your mother smiles and the glee in her voice makes you giggle. You fix your mascara as best you can and turn back to your mom. She pulls you into her arms once again and kisses your head, "You're a beautiful, brilliant girl Quinn and I'm so, so proud of you."

You cling to your mom. It feels so good to hear her say those things, especially now that your relationship with Rachel is out in the open. It reaffirms your hope that your mom's love is unconditional. "Thanks mom."

"I love you Quinnie," she says.

When you're both done being all sappy and sentimental, you find the Berrys and your sister sitting at a cleared table, ready to go. You all say goodbye in the parking lot and promise that you'll return soon.

After stopping to gas up your car, you get on the road out of Lima. It's quiet for the first two minutes before Rachel asks, "Are you going to tell me what happened this morning?"

"With your dads?" you ask, hoping that she doesn't suspect anything.

"Well you can start with that," she states, and opens a bottle of juice that she got at the gas station, "Or you can tell me why you were crying."

You feel the tingle of tears behind your eyes and clench your jaw. You don't want to cry anymore. You just want to move on. You bite your lip, "Can I- I don't want to talk about it Rach."

She sighs heavily next to you and before you can apologize she says, "I understand."

"You do?" you ask in disbelief. You expected her to push harder.

"Quinn you have a long, sordid, and painful history in Lima and some of it is bound to resurface occasionally," she lays her head back on her headrest. You can see her lull her head to the side to look at you, "I don't expect full disclosure because that's just the kind of person that you are. Just know that I'm here when you do want to talk."

"What do you mean not the kind of person I am?" you ask, slightly offended.

She gently takes your hand and holds it between the two of you, "Quinn, we've had this talk. You've been hurt to the point where you're guarded. I understand that and I'm working on not needing to know everything that's going on with you. I just…want you to know that I'm here for you to talk to or to cry on or whatever. Until then, I'll be sitting in this seat and changing the subject."

You acutely shake your head with a small smile on your face. Rachel is beyond perfect. You brush your thumb across her knuckles in an action that you open tells her that you appreciate her patience. "Change away."

She disengages your hands to dig through her purse and extract her phone, "It appears that a photograph of us has found it's way onto the internet as well as a video of all the musical performances."

You frown. Gossip these days moves at light speed. First the Lima Post, now the entire world. "What were we doing in the picture?"

"We were just dancing…very close. It apparently hit the internet very soon after it was taken and my agent called during the reception." She states, sipping some more of her drink.

"Oh shit," You glance over at her, "I saw that. I'm sorry."

"It's okay," she takes your hand and slides her fingers together, "He just wanted to tell me that I was supposed to be more discreet."

You're not sure what she means by 'was supposed to'. "What?"

"I had a long talk with him and my publicist about the possibility of this relationship as I do with all of my potential suitors a few days ago," she reclines her seat and stretches not letting go of your hand.

"What'd they say?" you glance around at the road signs and change lanes getting ready to turn.

"They just want us to be discreet at first. Then my publicist wants the grand unveiling of this relationship to be at the Tony's," Rachel explains like it happens to her all the time, "But she still wants us to be coy about it and not give any straight answers to reporters. It keeps the media interested especially when my agent is shopping me around for plays with bigger audiences and possibly movies."

"Movies?" you ask as you turn onto the access road and merge onto the highway. This is the first you're hearing about movies.

You see her nod out of the corner of your eye, "I've been resistant at first, but it could be fun right? I mean it's not a normal eight show a week schedule and I'd have more down time. I love the stage, I do. It's just…I'm getting tired."

"That's understandable," you can see it in her face, especially if she has two shows a day. Putting forth that emotional effort has got to be exhausting. Especially to the extent that Rachel does it. "If I can help you at all, let me know."

Gently squeezing your hand, she adds, "Thanks."

After about twenty minutes of nothing but the humming of the tires against the road, you glance over at her. She looks tired, but is staring out the window, watching Ohio turn into Pennsylvania. You shake her hand a bit to get her attention, "Why don't you get some sleep? We didn't get much last night and you have a show tonight."

She smiles softly at you leans over the console to kiss your cheek, "Are you okay to drive without me keeping you awake?"

"I'm fine," you assure her. You have a lot to think about to keep you up.

"Okay," she settles back in her seat, "Wake me up if you want me to drive."

For the next few hours you're alone with your thoughts. Her warm, limp hand in yours calms the anxious thoughts you have and reminds you that your life is in New York now.

Her feet are up on the dashboard as you finally pull into the state of New York. She's awake and fully refreshed and questioning you about the date you're taking her on in six days, "So this date we're going on, if you don't tell me anything about it, how am I supposed to know what to wear?"

"I haven't decided yet, but if all goes as planned, I'll provide your clothes," you explain. It's true. If you're going to do this date right, you're going to have her dressed the part without her stressing at all about what she's going to wear. Especially if what she's going to wear is going to complete the perfect date.

You can tell that she's looking at you and all you can do is smile. She takes her hand out of yours and asks, "Am I not stylish enough to dress myself?"

You can tell she's trying to get you to reveal something by pretending to be offended. You pat her arm and offer her a, "Nice try."

She crosses her arms, "Can I at least get a hint?"

You think about it for a moment and answer, "It's not at a sports bar." That's a better hint than she thinks it is, but she still pouts in the passenger's seat.

She's quiet over it for a few more minutes and you go back to thinking. Or over thinking. You look at her for a moment before your eyes go back to the road.

"What's wrong?" she asks quietly, turning in her seat to face you.

You lick your lips and tighten your grip on the steering wheel, "I was just thinking about what your dad said."

"I-is that why you were crying earlier?" she asks softly with an edge to her voice. You know she'd be on the phone faster than you could stop her if he did.

You quickly shake your head, "No. I just…on the way to pick up my car, you dad said that this is going to be complicated." You run your teeth over your bottom lip, "That our situation is going to make this more complicated than normal. And I don't want to contribute to that with secrecy. I just…it's easier for me to sit on it and ignore what happens."

Both of her hands on enveloping your free hand. You slowly blink because you can feel the tears coming. "It's like I have this box of emotions and every time I open this box they start to flood out and it's easier if I just don't open it at all."

She's silently absorbing everything. You feel her fingers trail up and down your arms, trying to comfort you. You pull off to the side of the road and put the car in park. At this point, it's dangerous for you to drive because tears are clouding your vision.

You don't look at her though. You keep your eyes straight ahead. "I don't want to hide things from you. I really don't, but…I don't know how to just put it all out there."

After you don't say anything for a moment she adds, "I understand." She reaches forward and tenderly wipes away a trail of tears down the right side of your face, making no effort to get you to look at her.

"I saw Russell today…my dad…" Your head drops. It's like you lose self-esteem just talking about him, "I saw him at the tire shop." Your hair is shielding your face from her so you can't see what she's doing. A sob overtakes you and you pull your hand away from her to cover your face.

You hear the click of your seatbelt being unfastened. You feel her pulling at your hand and your arm. You numbly move with the pulls and prods until you're in her lap, your head on her shoulder. You feel like you can't breathe. You try to force out more words to explain why he has his effect on you, but it comes out fragmented in short bursts, "His face…so disappointed…hurts so bad…like the first time…"

"Shhh," she strokes your hair and kisses your tear glossed cheeks, "It's okay. He's gone now."

You try to bury yourself deeper in her and you close your eyes, just feeling her around you. Her smell comforts you and her arms around you give you a sense of security. You finally get a grip and get your breathing under control. Then you sit up and wipe your eyes, "I'm sorry."

"Don't be sorry," she kisses your temple and smiles at you with watery eyes. It's apparent she was crying with you, "Sometimes you need to open the box and spill it a little so it doesn't explode." Her eyes roam over your face, "I'm glad I was the one here for you when it happened."

You lean back into her and wrap your arms around her, "You really are the best. Ever."

"Yeah well," she shrugs with a giggle and rubs your upper thigh, "Years of practice."

You kiss Rachel's cheek, lingering for a moment before moving to get back in your seat. Once you're situated again, you take off. She takes your hand and turns on the radio.

After singing along to the songs, blaring out of your speakers for a little over an hour, you finally pull to a stop outside of the theatre. She's a little early, but she insists that it's okay. With a parting peck on the lips, she walks into the theatre.

When you get back to your apartment, you unload all the bags with a little help from Ethan and politely decline an invitation from him for nachos and a game. It was a long drive and you just want to get some sleep. You fall down on the couch and you're overcome by sleep before you can get both of your shoes off.


	21. Chapter 21

Your phone rings, waking you from your sleep. You roll over, almost falling completely off of the couch and grab it, "Yo."

"Did you really just answer the phone with 'Yo'?" Rachel asks.

You smile at yourself. You totally just did. "I did."

"Well come open the door. It's locked."

"Don't you have a key?" you ask, rolling over into the back of the couch.

She sighs, "Yeah but it's at the bottom of my purse and I don't feel like digging it out."

"You called me and woke me up because you didn't feel like digging your key out of the bottom of your purse?" you ask, but you're already getting up off of the couch.

"Qui-iiiinn," she whines.

You pad to the door and flip open the locks. On the other side of the door is an exhausted looking little diva who gives you a sleepy smile before wrapping her arms around your waist and resting her head on your shoulder. She deflates against you and you hold her against you. You rub her back and offer, "Do you want to take a bath or do you just want to go to bed?"

She doesn't let go of you and steps forward, forcing you to take a step back. She closes the door and locks it behind her. "I'm going to just…go to bed." She takes a long deep breath and slowly moves away from you.

"Okay," you smile at her, "I'll see you in the morning."

"You, me and coffee, first thing tomorrow," she kisses your cheek and gives you a hug before pattering off.

At lunch the next day, you search through the real estate listings in and around the city. You have very specific requirements and you're not going to settle. This is for your first date and you've been staring at the listings since you got to work and now you're at lunch with Brittany and Santana with your laptop open on the table.

"So you're going to have the date in an empty apartment that you're trying to sell?" Santana asks, pushing up the long sleeves that are sticking out from under the scrubs. She picks up a French fry and chomps off the end.

You nod, not taking your eyes off of the screen.

"Isn't that sort of unethical?" she asks, offering Brittany some French fries.

You shrug. You don't care. If you get caught, what are they gonna do? Fire you? Big damn deal. You don't actually really like being a real estate agent anyway. It's not like anyone is going to walk in on your date. "That's it!" you exclaim when you finally see the pictures that match what's going on in your mind. It's so perfect.

Both of your friends lean around the table to see what you're looking at. Brittany rests her chin on your shoulder, "It's pretty."

You nod. It's gorgeous and perfect. Everything you want. You click back to the list that you've started to make. Santana quirks her head, "That's your To-Do list for the date? You do realize what the date is not next month right?"

Again you nod. All these things you know. You know it's a lot, but you've had a long time to plan and daydream about this. Anything less than perfect is unacceptable.

Santana sits back in her seat and Brittany leans into her. Your resident med student adds, "You do that you're setting the date bar really high right off the bat."

You nibble on a tortilla chip from your plate and barely glance up at her from the computer, "It has to be. What if it's the only one?"

"What do you mean?" Brittany asks, thoughtfully looking you over.

You glance at Santana to see if she's going to add anything, but when she gives you the same questioning look you sigh. "This is a big deal. She has a lot to lose if she decides to stick with…this. I want her to…" your voice gets quiet, "to be sure that I'm worth it. I have to show her that I'm willing to put a lot of effort into this to make it work."

After a moment, Brittany and Santana look at each other. Brittany's shoulders rise and fall with a breath and Santana bites the inside of her cheek. Then they look back at you. You feel like you're about to get lectured so you stop them before they can start, "No, you don't get to tell me that I'm worth it and that I shouldn't have to prove it. I've wanted to be with her since I can remember and this is my shot. My one shot. I'm not going to screw it up."

Santana exhales and checks her phone. She turns to Brittany, "I gotta go to class. Talk to her okay?"

Brittany nods and kisses Santana. Santana stands, slings her purse over her shoulder and steps to your side of the table. She drops a kiss on the top of your head and mutters something you don't quite catch.

You look expectantly at Brittany who is picking at her food. When she looks up at you, she finally speaks, "I get it okay? And I'm not going to tell you that it's a bad idea because it's romantic and stuff. I just don't think this is your one shot. I mean me and San have had like a million shots and we've both screwed them up, but we're together."

You know she's right. Rachel is definitely the forgiving type and you're sure you could light a bunch of candles around your apartment and make her dinner and she'd be happy, but you've waited so long and you want her to fall as desperately in love with you as you are with her. "Thanks B."

She smiles, "No problem." She takes a bite of some of the leftover food on Santana's plate, "Can I help? You have a long list."

"Thank you so much," you feel a little relieved that you're going to have some help. The more you stare at the list, the more overwhelmed you become. "I'm mostly worried about the dress. I don't know where I'm going to find the one."

"A dress for you?" Brittany asks.

"No for her," you explain, picking the check up off of the table.

Brittany plucks it out of your hand and adds, "Well I'll ask the wardrobe people when I get back to work. They get the coolest stuff. Just send a picture of what you want it to look like to my phone and I'll ask them."

"Thanks B," you reach for the check again, but she yanks it out of your grasp with a smile.

After she pays, you decide that you can continue working from home so you split a cab with her, dropping her off at work before heading back to your apartment.

You've made yourself comfortable on the couch in sweatpants and cami before falling onto the couch with your laptop on your stomach. After calling to make an appointment to see the apartment you're going to use for your date, you start looking on the internet for all the furniture you're going to need. It's the perfect day to work from home as rain starts to gently tap at your windows.

When the front door opens you minimize all windows and open up a new browser.

"Stupid reporters," you hear her mutter followed by a dull thud. You figure she just kicked off her shoes against the wall, "Paparazzi is more like it. I'm _never_ moving to LA."

She walks the rest of the way into the apartment and before you even know what's going on, you feel a large weight on your stomach, knock the wind out of you. Your hands move to her purse that has so unceremoniously landed on your stomach.

"Oh my god Quinn I'm so sorry," she yanks her purse off of you, but she nearly yanks your finger, that's stuck in the side pocket, off of your hand.

"Ow shit!" you manage to disengage your finger from her purse. When you examine it it's just red around the part that got hooked, but it feels like she grabbed your finger and tied it to the back of a taxi.

"Oh my god," Rachel's hands were over her mouth with a completely horrified expression, "I'm so, so, so sorry. What can I do? I can take you to the doctor. Let's go."

"No," you say, taking a deep breath, "I'll just…" you stand up, "Do you have a first aid kit?"

"Of course," she nods affirmatively and runs off.

You go into the kitchen to get some ice out of the freezer and into a little baggie. When she returns, she has a very, very large first aid kit. "Do you keep paramedics in there?"

She giggles and sets it on the kitchen table. She opens it and asks, "What do you need?"

"Just the tape," you offer.

It takes you a few seconds to tape your injured finger to the one next to it. Then you cover it with the ice.

"You're good at that," Rachel offers, closing up her suitcase of a first aid kit.

"At Cheerios orientation, we learned to take care of our own injuries," you offer with a shrug.

She steps up to you and gently takes the ice bag off of your finger. You both examine it and find that it's starting to swell. You look at her and find that her eyes are entirely apologetic. "I'm so sorry."

You smile and take the ice back from her. You place it on your finger and take her hand with your non-injured one, "C'mon. Let's sit down and you can tell my about your crappy day that made you so mad you came home and assaulted me."

She stops walking and you turn to look at her, "Quinn I would never…no matter how crappy my day is-"

You cut her off with a chuckle, "I was just joking."

"I know," she sighs, "I just…I had a horrible day and," she lets out a frustrated huff, "I'm so glad you're here. Can we just lay down on the couch and I'll continue apologizing? Please?"

You nod and follow her to the couch, falling down first. You know that she's resilient and there's almost no chance that you'll hurt her just laying on her, but you always feel like if you're on top of her you'll break her or something.

She every so carefully lays down on top of you, her head on your chest. One of her hands gently cups your cheek. She whispers, "I'm so sorry."

"I forgive you," you state, "Now don't bring it up again."

You can feel her smile against your neck and you smile back. You love laying on the couch with her on top of you being able to not feel weird touching the skin peeking out of her shirt. You ran your nails up the small of her back dragging her shirt up as you went. You only exposed about an inch or so of skin but you feel like a thirteen year old boy who just got to third base.

"Mmm Quinn," she takes a deep breath and squeezes her arms around you tighter, "A little higher."

You realize she wants you to scratch her back and you try to push away all dirty thoughts in your mind. You push her shirt up and keep scratching. She's not giving you much direction so you decide to cover as much of her back as possible. A crash of lightning turns your attention to the window where the rain has become relentless in it's beating of the city.

She wriggles a little bit and tilts her head up, her lips brushing against your neck. Her warm breath on you causes your eyes to squeeze shut. This is more than a compromising position for you and you know that this is probably the most turned on you've been in your life. So you decide to divert the attention away from those thoughts, "What happened with the reporters?"

She tilts her head up to look at you with her big brown eyes that you've loved since before you can remember, "They're just…it's just the stupid questions and the repetitiveness. I'm kinda pissed that they haven't asked about you yet."

You giggle, "Really?"

"They keep asking me about Lima and high school. One of them even asked me about Santana, but no one asked me about the beautiful woman I was dancing with," she sighs and shakes her head, "I don't understand it at all."

You don't really understand it either. Of course Santana was the one that was yelling obscenities and would have probably run up and down the street naked if Brittany hadn't kept her inside. Of course you're okay with it. You're apprehensive about the day that the paparazzi follow you and Rachel around which you know will happen if she does start to do movies.

"Are you sure your finger is okay?" she asks, propping her head up to look at you in the face, "I don't believe that Sue Sylvester is the best judge of injuries. I believe that she was the one that tried to make one of the Cheerios walk off a broken ankle."

You smile at her caring and you run your fingers through her hair. "I'm fine. I promise. It's probably just a sprain. I'll have Santana look at it if it's still bad tomorrow okay?"

"Okay," she sighs and traces your cheekbone with her fingers. A smile cracks her thoughtful expression, "I could kiss it if it would make it better."

You smile at her. After you just take in the sight of her smiling, you shake your head, "Not necessary, but you know, I think something else hurts."

"Oh yeah?" she giggles.

You nod and point to your cheek, "It really hurts right here."

She dips down and presses her lips to your cheek. When she pulls away, "Better?"

"Much," you grin, lazily.

"Well, it looks kinda like it hurts right here too," she lays a finger across your lips. She removes her fingers and lowers her head so that your lips are a breath apart. She only pauses for a moment before pressing your lips together. The way her lips move against yours makes you feel like you're meant to kiss her. Your lips just fit. There's no awkwardness in the kiss. There are no missed cues or weird angles. It's just right.

You cringe when you whimper at the loss of her lips on yours. You don't remember ever being that needy. There's a lazy smile on her lips as she lays her head back down and kisses the underside of your jaw chastely. "I can't wait for our date."

"Me either," you tell her.

As you both just lay there you think that Rachel's dad was right. This is a lot different than a conventional relationship. The fact that you are best friends and that you live together seem to make the relationship develop at a much more rapid pace. You don't share the same bed, but instead of just talking together during dates, you talk pretty much every waking second that you're both at the apartment. Plus, the talking that you would have done during dates, which would be semi-shallow for a while just feeling each other out, is already done. You know a lot about her. You know what she likes and what she hates. You know all about her family and about her past. Granted you know more about her than she does about you because of the issues Rachel so gently brought to your attention in Lima, but she still knows a great deal more than she would if you were just acquaintances or co-workers or something about to go on their first date.

That makes you nervous about this relationship. It's going to be complicated and it could get messy. The lines are so blurred around you that you pretty much have to guess at where the boundaries lie. She's been great about this so far. Her hugs and cuddles have been the same and she'll throw in sweet kisses to your cheek or your neck occasionally, but other than that not much has changed. Well something has changed. You have noticed that she very, very tactfully has been avoiding the word love. When she talks about what she feels for you, they're always feelings or developing feelings or something equally noncommittal.

Right now you can feel her eyes on you and you wonder what she's thinking. You can't help, but wonder is she's trying to find a way out without having to break your heart. You know she'd never want to break your heart, but you know that if this relationship that hasn't even started yet ever dissolves you'll be the one that's the most broken.

You let out a heavy sigh and try to push these thoughts out of your head. She agreed to go out on a date with you and that's good enough for right now.

She moves a bit and puts one hand on the back of the couch and the other on the cushion next to your hips. She looks at you for a minute before stating, "You're quiet."

You let out a smile as your eyes trail down her arms to her perfect fingers. You can't think of anything about her right now that isn't beautiful. You want to kiss every inch of her body, telling her over and over that she's the most beautiful person on the planet, but you can't. Not yet anyway. You have to get past the first date. You're not going to go past kissing with her until there is no doubt in your mind that she's really in this. It seems like she is and so far she's acted like it, but you're still you and you're still cautious when it comes to your heart.

"Quinn?" she asks, sitting up with her knees between the back of the couch and you. She rests a hand on your stomach. You can see in her eyes that she's worried. "What's wrong?"

You put your hand on top of hers, "Nothing. I was just thinking."

"What are you thinking about?" she asks tilting her head to the side.

The complexity that might cause this relationship to fail? How you're not really sure that she really wants to be in this relationship? How you want to worship her body until the end of time? Yeah right. Like you're going to tell her any of those things. "Real estate."

She quirks an eyebrow and rests her elbow on the back of the couch before resting her head against her hand, "So when are you going to tell me what real estate is code for?"

You furrow your eyebrows, "What?"

"Quinn," she sighs and starts moving her hand on your stomach in slow circles, "I know you're really not thinking about real estate. I mean you'd have to be some kind of extreme workaholic to think about real estate that much and I know that you don't actually enjoy your job so I know you're lying to me."

You physically wince when she says 'lying'. You don't want to lie to her. You really don't. But who in their right mind speaks their mind all the time? Especially when asked…well except for her. You can't meet her eyes after her accusation even though there was nothing vicious about it. "I'm sorry. I was just…over thinking."

"You can tell me," she gives you a tentative smile like she doesn't know if she should or not.

You bite your lip and decide to tell the truth. At least part of the truth, "That your dad is right. He told me that since this is not the most conventional start to a romantic relationship that it's going to be…complicated."

She looks at you and nods, "I know. That doesn't mean it won't work."

"I know," your eyes shoot to her. You think that you made her think that you have no faith in this. That being complicated meant you weren't going to try your damnedest. "I didn't mean that it wouldn't work. I was just thinking about how it's going to be different."

"This difference could be a good," she offers with a smile. "I mean, I don't have to explain to you what a vegan is."

You laugh. You think you pretty much have the vegan thing down, "And I don't have to tell you that I was married before and watch you look for a quick way to end the date."

She laughs with you, "And I don't have to bring up my favorite movies and watch your eyes glaze over. Or explain that my dads are really harmless once you get to know them."

"You can still keep explaining to me that they're harmless," you add with a goofy smile.

She lets out a loud laugh and just watching her makes you forget your doubts for a moment. "You know they love you."

You smile back at her. "I love them too."

After a moment, the laughter dies down and you're just looking at each other. You're about to ask her if she's hungry when she says, "I know that there are things that you don't want to talk about and it'll take some time for you to completely open up to me. If I ask you something you don't want to talk about you can say real estate and I'll leave it alone, okay?"

You don't say anything until you remember that she's rubbing your stomach. It just seems like the most natural thing in the world. You nod, "Okay. Thank you. I swear I'm working on it."

"I believe you." She leans forward and kisses your forehead. Your eyes flutter shut at the contact. When she pulls back you open your eyes to find a smiling actress. "Since it's raining outside, do how about we order in and watch TV or something?"

You smile and nod. As she's getting up, your phone buzzes on the coffee table. She hands it to you and adds, "I'm going to go get some pajamas on. It's getting cold in here."

You check your phone and open the text from Santana. _I will give you fifty bucks to come get this fucking cat for the night. I NEEDZ my Brit-time. Please!_ You sigh and look out the window. It's still pouring and if your phone is any good at predicting the weather with it's fun little app, the rain's not going to start anytime soon. Of course if you do this for her, you can get her to help you with your date and judging by the lack of checks next to the things on your to-do list, you may need more help than you anticipated.

When Rachel walks back in wearing sweatpants that are way too big and a long sleeved shirt, you're standing and looking through the coat closet for something that water will run off of. "Where are you going?" You can tell that she's disappointed.

You smile that she's looking forward to hanging out with you, "I'm going to go get Binx. Santana's going to give me fifty bucks to watch her for the night."

She frowns, "Fifty bucks? I thought that apartment you sold made it so you don't have to worry for a while."

"It did," you finally pick out a raincoat. It's Rachel's and is black with gold stars. You shake your head with an amused smirk and shrug it on. "I'm going because she's going to owe me a favor after this and I learned in high school that there is very little Santana cannot get other people to do."

"What are you going to make her do?" Rachel puts one of her hands on her hips.

You grin, "You never know." You open the front door, "If you'll order dinner, I'll be back before it gets here."

She nods, "Okay. But if you're not back in half an hour I'm watching TV and cuddling with myself." She lets out a cheeky grin and you laugh. As long as you are alive, she will never have to cuddle with herself again.

There are few cabs in the street and even fewer people, but it's not long before you're shaking out your umbrella in front of Brittany and Santana's apartment building.

"Thank god you're here!" Santana squeezes the air out of you with a rushed hug. She disappears for a second before a pet carrier is shoved into your arms and three bills fly at you. Just like that, the door is slammed in your face.

You stand there for a moment and just try to catch up with what just happened. Finally a loud thud in the apartment gets you moving again. You shove the money into your pocket and walk off with the carrier under your arm. You look at the little kitten and say, "You're going to come home with me for a while. You're mommies need some playtime."

On the way back to your apartment, you realize that Santana didn't give you anything else besides the kitten. You're currently sitting on the kitchen floor with the kitten playing with your hand, looking up at Rachel. "I have no instructions. No food. No cat littler or anything."

"Use newspaper," she shrugs.

"Isn't that for puppies?"

"Isn't that just like a puppy, but…slower?"

You look questioningly up at her, "Have you ever had a pet?"

"I had a goldfish named Oscar. I got so wrapped up in my Myspace videos that I occasionally forgot to fee him…and…" She trails off, kicking at the floor with her bare foot.

You chuckle, "That explains everything."

"Also I had an impossibly high standard for pets…"

You nod, "Yeah I heard the kitten story," you get off of the floor to get the kitten some water and hope that it has recently eaten. Then you sit back on the floor with your legs crossed. It slowly curls up into your lap.

You take your phone out of your pocket and shoot Santana a text asking her what kind of food Binx eats. You get a quick reply with a blurry, crooked picture of kitten food on the counter at the edge of their kitchen and in the upper corner you can make out the back of Brittany in the doorway of their bedroom in nothing, but underwear.

When you look up, Rachel's sitting in one of the chairs, sideways so she can watch you. You lean back on the cabinets and look at her with a weak smile. "I have to go to the store in a little bit so Binxy can eat."

She smiles, "Do you need me to go to the store for you? She looks awfully comfortable."

You look down at the now sleeping kitten, "Are you sure? It's still raining."

"Yeah," she adds, "I was going to get some wine anyway."

"You're drinking before a show?" you ask her.

She grins as she stands, "There's no show scheduled for tonight."

Your phone buzzes again and you open a text. When you read it you sigh, "I forgot that I promised Ethan that he could come over tonight."

She narrows her eyes, "For what?"

"Game one of the Stanley Cup," you offer.

"Who's Stanley?" she asks.

You can't stop a laugh that wakes up the kitten. Binx stretches before hopping off of your. "It's like the Tony's of hockey."

She makes a face, "Hockey?"

"I promise as soon as it's over it'll be just you me and the floorboards," you grin.

She smiles at you, "Okay. Maybe you two can teach me something about hockey. Ooh, I'll get some beer too. It'll be fun."

"Do you need me to come with you?" you ask, getting a little amused at Rachel's newfound excitement.

"No you stay here," she pats your head, "and make sure the cat doesn't pee in my room." She bends over and talks to the kitten. "Did you hear that? No peeing in my room." She kisses your forehead and goes into her room to change again.

You look down at the kitten and ask her, "This is a dream isn't it? It has to be a dream. Real people aren't that perfect." When you reach for the kitten's water bowl to pull it closer you see that Rachel's still standing in the doorway. You blush and bow your head, "I'm not your crazy roommate that talks to cats."

She just giggles and pushes off of the doorframe. She doesn't say anything, but her smile says it all. You've inadvertently flattered her.

Her voice is soft when she asks, "Do you need anything else?"

"A life remote to rewind and not make myself look insane," you offer with a crooked smile, hoping to get her to laugh.

She does takes a step back, "I'll make sure to look for one of those."

After she leaves, you text Ethan back and tell him that Rachel will be joining you. You laugh. This will be interesting.

The food arrives before Rachel does. You set it out on the table and when Rachel returns with the food (two kinds because the picture was blurry) and the beer, she sits down with you.

"You realized on the way to the store that I may have invited myself to some friend time with you and Ethan," you says, moving her food around on her plate. "And I'm sorry. I can go out while you two watch the game."

You tilt your head to the side, "Rach, if you weren't allowed to invite yourself then I would have said something. You're more than welcome to stay. I mean it's your apartment after all. Plus, Ethan and I have been texting about how fun it will be to watch you get into it."

She sighs with small smile, "Thanks. You can let me know when I'm doing things like that. I'm trying to maintain some boundaries. I know that sometimes…well a lot of times I overstep. So…," She takes a deep breath, "I would like to reaffirm my previous request for complete honesty when it comes to making you uncomfortable Quinn. You know I'm a very physically affectionate person and I've been trying to stave of my affection toward you. I watched you with your family and as a group you're not very affectionate. Not like me and my dads. I really don't want to scare you off. Sometimes I don't think about-"

You have to cut her off, "Rachel." You pause and wait for her full attention, "Physical affection from you has never and god-willing, will never make me uncomfortable. I try not to initiate much with you because I don't want to scare _you_ off. We haven't even had our first date yet."

"If it was up to me we would have already been out on at least three," she teases you. After you chuckle, she adds, "Don't be afraid of me Quinn."

"I'm not anymore," You smile at her. You feel like you just confessed something huge so you dip your head down to regroup before adding, "It'll be worth the wait. I promise."

"I believe it," you smiles back.

You spend a few hours doing some basic household things. Rachel helps you with the laundry and even sweeps up the kitchen while singing to herself. It amazes you how natural this all feels with her.

When Ethan arrives you all sit on the couch. Rachel bought some extra food at the store in preparation for the game. Just like predicted Rachel gets really into the game once she knows all the rules. She even drags you down the bar after the game to celebrate her team's win. When you ask her who her team was, she identifies them by jersey colors.

You manage to steal Brittany away from work the next day to go hunting for the dress. A couple of the wardrobe people she works with gave her a list of places to look. As you look around the racks of a second hand place that you stepped into on a whim, Brittany absently looks at a wall of books. The store is pretty small and pretty empty so you take your time, looking through the racks.

"Have you ever kissed a girl besides Rachel?"

The question surprises you. Not really because of the content, but because she's been quiet for so long, "One I think, but it was in high school and I was drunk," you pause, "and I'm pretty sure it was you."

You look at her over the rack as a smile breaks out on her face, "Oh yeah." She stops and pulls out a book, looking it over before replacing it. "Have you ever done anything else?…with a girl?"

You stand up straight and it hits you like a baseball bat. "I don't know how to have sex with…a woman," you offer. You've never really done it or like researched it. Do people research sex? Puck used to tell you that when he was watching porn, he was doing research. That's a load of shit and you know it, but right now it doesn't seem like such a stupid idea.

Brittany shrugs, "Santana is really awesome at it. You could watch her."

You don't say anything and give a moment to allow Brittany's brain to catch up to her mouth. She quirks her head and adds, "Never mind. That'd be weird." She grabs a book and grins, tucking it under her arm as she keeps walking.

You nod, "Yeah." This just gives you something else to worry about. She shake your head at yourself. First date first. Sex later. Hopefully.

"It's super fun though," she says, walking around the racks of clothes, "It's like…I don't know, it's just awesome. You just sort of go with it."

"What if I'm not good at it?" you ask.

She shoots you a cheeky grin, "There's more than one way to do it. If you're not good at one, you might be good at the others."

"Others?" you ask, starting to panic.

After Brittany calms you down, you find something else that you need. Maybe you could give it to Rachel early as a hint. So you leave the shop with a paper fan and Brittany leaves with a book and a bunch of hats. You will never understand Brittany's obsession with hats.


	22. Chapter 22

"What's this?" Rachel asks, picking up the fan that you bought at the second hand store. She spotted it when she walked in from her show.

You look up from your place on the couch, the book in your hand dropping to your lap, "That's a hint. The date is tomorrow and you have been very patient."

She picks it up and looks it over. Closed it doesn't look like much, but when she opens it the vibrant colors practically jump out. It's not exactly the one you wanted, but it was as close as you could get on such short notice. The colors radiate out from the middle in cool blues, purples, and greens. You did make sure it matches the dress that she's going to be wearing though.

She turns to you and fans herself, "Is this date going to be hot Quinn? Ooh are we going to Spain?"

"No unless I win the lottery between now and tomorrow," you quirk an eyebrow. That's quite a jump from a fan to Spain.

"The beach?" she asks, walking toward you.

"Sorry to disappoint you, but we're staying on the island," you state, closing your book and setting it on the coffee table. You know she's not really disappointed. She's fishing. And if she's lucky, she may get a few nibbles, but absolutely no bites. You worked way too hard on this date for it to lose its shock value when she walks in.

She looks the fan over and looks at the bottom. "Japanese food?"

"Where'd you get that?" you ask, completely perplexed at this point.

"It was made in Japan," she offers, flopping down on the couch next to you. "C'mon Quinn. I need more of a hint."

You grin at her and shake your head, "No you don't." Your eyes flicker to the DVD case next to the TV that this whole date is based on. You doubt that she'll ever figure it out if she's starting at Spain and Japan. You feel your stomach rumble before you can actually hear it. You haven't eaten today except for a couple crackers that Santana had on her while you were in the apartment you're 'borrowing' while setting up the furniture. You'd done nothing but prep for the date (including full on panicking) today and that's pretty much all you're going to do tomorrow.

"Are you hungry?" she asks, closing the fan and tapping it on your knee.

You nod tiredly, "I haven't eaten much today." You look at your phone and see that it's already past ten. You rub your eyes. You really just want to go to bed. You can eat tomorrow. You're stealing Santana away for breakfast before last minute prep and hopefully a pep talk from her. Then you show an apartment because you've been really slacking at work lately and as much as you don't really like your job, you figure that you should keep it until you decide what else you're going to do. You start to go over the itinerary in your head. You get dressed at the apartment, make sure everything is done and then try not to panic as Brittany escorts Rachel from her show to the apartment. Simple. Easy.

"Do you want me to make you something?" Rachel asks, inching closer to you. Finally she kisses your cheek and smoothes out the hair sticking out of your ponytail. "We have some hummus left over."

You tilt your head down and catch her eyes. They're so full of concern and caring that a shiver runs through your body, radiating out over your limbs. A smile works its way onto your lips and you kiss her forehead, "No. I'll grab something on the way to bed. I'm exhausted."

She looks disappointed, "Really?

You nod again. You give her a hopeful smile, "I suggest you go to bed too. You have a big day tomorrow."

Her face lights up. She picks up the fan again and studies it. "I do?"

You roll your eyes, "Mhmm." You finally manage to heave yourself off of the couch and stretch. While your arms are over your head, she let's a finger trace along the top of your sweatpants. You nearly faint on the spot. Her finger goes the more innocent route after that, running down the seam along the side. "Fine. I'll _cuddle_ with myself."

The way she says cuddle makes your stomach drop into your knees. All the heat in your body migrates to the place between your legs and you gulp hard. A single finger on your skin shouldn't turn you on that much. You pray that she's hinting at what you're thinking of. You also pray that she's not.

"Have fun," you tell her and have to fight your legs from running to your room. You don't close the door because you never close the door. You and Rachel have an unspoken rule. You leave the doors open at night. You do it so she'll know if she has a nightmare that she can always come to you. You figure that she does it for much the same reason. You also think it had something to do with when you first told her about your feelings, showing you that she trusted you.

You dive under your covers and squeeze your legs together hoping that this goes away. You really don't want to have to take care of it. Not tonight of all nights. Especially when the door to your room is open and the light to the living room is still sneaking in.

After a few minutes, the light goes off and you let out a sigh of relief. She's going to bed too. You roll over and squeeze your eyes shut. You're still mostly clueless about the whole sex thing and it's freaking you out. The kisses you two have shared haven't even involved any tongue. You think that if you even felt her tongue on your, you may die.

It's not that you assume that tomorrow night will lead to sex, but what if it does? You know that you're going to have to ask for help tomorrow. You really don't want to have to watch porn. That's your last resort. Santana is a doctor in training. Maybe she can explain it clinically. You groan and roll over. That's going to be awkward as hell.

And when you stumble across the words, asking her if she could walk you through it, a mortified expression covers her face.

"With anyone else?" she asks, "Whatever, but I can't tell you have to go down on Rachel Berry. I'm still trying to get past you two kissing each other. My brain can't get past it. Nuh uh. No way."

"Please San," you plead. You really, really, really don't want to have to resort to studying porn. You glance around the small coffee shop and then return your eyes to their spot, glued to the top of your cup. "What if she wants to…do it tonight?"

"Do _you_ want to?" without even looking at her you know that her arms are crossed and her head is cocked to the side.

You swallow hard and think it over. You're not trying to decide if you want to. You're trying to decide it there's a day in your life that you didn't want to make love that woman. You nod firmly, "Yeah. I just…don't know how."

Santana huffs and leans forward on the table. "This is fucking awkward as shit, but…what do you think about when you…you know fantasize about her?"

Your eyes widen. Definitely awkward. You pause. It's mostly just kissing. You're both naked and panting, writhing together on a bed. Then it hits you. You don't actually know what you're doing to make her pant like that. You don't know what she's doing to you. Suddenly you realize that you've been becoming turned on by PG visions of sex. "Oh my god," you huff and drop your head onto the coffee table, "I'm screwed."

"Well not yet," Santana chuckles at her own joke. "Q," she pauses as you pick your head up, "I've been putting off this call, but it's apparent that it has to happen." She picks up her phone that was resting on the table and punches a few numbers, "Just know that when you put Brittany into over-share mode it doesn't go off for a while. Forget everything she says about me. Remember that she's a fucking sex goddess and if you're half as good as her, Berry will never look at anyone else again." With a reluctant sigh, Santana puts the phone to her ear. "Hey beautiful." You 'aww' at that and Santana rolls her eyes. You listen intently as she tells Brittany that you need help. She nods even though Brittany can't see her, "Yeah it's about that think we talked about." She glances up at you, "I know right?" After a few more seconds, Santana says, "Hop into a dressing room and give Q the crash course okay?…love you too."

Santana hands the phone to you. You carefully take the phone. You feel like you should be doing this in a dimly lit room with black curtains. Certainly not in a crowded coffee shop by the window as the sun illuminates clouds in the overcast sky.

By the time Brittany is finished, you're sure that your face is permanently red. Brittany was kind enough to explain multiple ways that two women could have sex, including the inclusion of certain…things one could buy at certain stores if one so desired.

"Help?" Santana asks, setting down her medical journal that she was reading.

You slide the phone across the table to her and drop your head in your hands, "Well if things don't work out with Rachel, I certainly know how you like it in bed."

You hear her across the table mutter, "Oh god." After a beat she adds, "Look, worse comes to worst you wing it. Listen to her. Pay attention to how she moves to whatever you're doing. Rachel has never been quiet in her whole damn life and I'm sure that applies to her sex life."

You nod. Santana's probably right. "Okay, can we just…move on? Read me the article you're reading or something so maybe I can look at you and Brittany in the same room together again by the time you get married."

Santana immediately starts reading to you and after a few articles you feel a little better. She finally has to leave to get to class and you have to get back to pick up some things before going to your apartment after Rachel leaves for her show.

The first thing you pick up is her dress. You couldn't find one that looked right so Brittany got some names for you and you had it made. You picked up her shoes as well. Then you texted Ethan. He was on the lookout for Rachel's departure. When the security guard at the front door saw he leave, he is going to call Ethan and Ethan is going to call you. You'll set everything up there and run over to the other apartment to get yourself ready.

Your hands shake as you wait for Brittany to get Rachel to the apartment. Everything is set up exactly how you want it. You already lit the candles because Brittany texted you and told you that they were on the way.

The apartment you're in has thirty-foot ceilings with a wall of complete glass that overlooks the lights of the city with the river in the background. You found a lofted apartment because you absolutely love them. Right now you're standing at the edge of the second story bedroom, overlooking the living room, leaning on the short wall. There's a glass of champagne sitting on top of the wall you're using for a railing and there has only been a few sips from it because you're freaking out. You twirl the white rose in your hand and wonder if it's too 'Bachelorette' for a date. Damn that show for ruining roses. You brought up a blue flower that you don't know the name of just in case you decided against the rose. The blue one is for her hair though. You sigh and start pacing. You're going to have a panic attack by the time this is over.

You look down and see the table for two you set up. The cream-colored tablecloth swept the dark hardwood floors. The chairs you bought had to be reupholstered in deep red but they came out beautifully with their high back and dark wood decorations. All around the living room, on the floor and a few on the table were gold candles. The flames on top made the whole candle shimmer in the dark. Closer to the window, but still close to the table was a red lounge chair. This was the most important piece of the date. It was the one piece that would solidify for her that you have just recreated the first date scene in her favorite movie. There's an antique floor lamp a few feet from the lounge chair, but it doesn't light much, which was your intention. You even found a few short statues to put along the walls to add to the detail.

You smooth out your own black dress and let out a long breath. You may be in love with Rachel, but nothing would ever get you into a tux. Santana assured you that you looked good in the dress. It's simple and elegant. The material ends at your knees and black heels complete your outfit. Your hair is half up and curled at the ends. You hope she likes what you're wearing.

Your phone buzzes on the floor by your purse. That's Brittany's warning. They're here. After five agonizing minutes, you wait. Finally, the door opens. Rachel tentatively steps into the apartment. You see a peek of Brittany as she closes the door behind Rachel.

For a moment you can't speak. In the blue dress that you had made for her, she's breathtaking. The plunging neckline, the deep dip in the back, the way it clings to her hips, but pools at her feet. There's so much to look at that your eyes are darting everywhere.

After she takes in everything, she smiles. She has the fan you gave her tightly clenched in her hand. Finally her eyes find you. You smile nervously back. She licks her lips before biting her bottom lip. She doesn't say anything so you pick up the flowers and your champagne and make your way down the stairs. You've never been more scared of tripping in your whole like, but when you make up to the ground floor in one piece you take a breath. She meets you next to the table and you see her eyes are shimmering in the candlelight.

You're glad that she wore her hair down. You gently slide the blue flower into her hair above her left ear. Then you offer her the white rose. She looks from it to you. Finally the tears building up in her eyes start to fall. They're silent and slow to move. You smile gently at her, wondering what she was thinking. You softly wipe away the tears that escaped and quietly add, "Don't cry."

The biggest smile you've ever seen takes over her face. She looks to the table and then to the windows before looking back at you, "This is…I can't- no one…" she ducks her head and laughs, "I can't even speak."

"That's okay," you assure her and pull her into a hug. She finally relaxes against you. She pulls back slightly and surprises you with an intense kiss. You were right. When her tongue tentatively touches your bottom lip, you die a little bit.

But it doesn't get much more intense than that. She pulls away with a smile and sighs contently, "Is this really all for me?"

"Just for you," you walk over to the table and pull her chair out for her.

She obliges and sits down, eyeing the silver dome covering the food. You look at her from across the table before pouring her some champagne.

"This is," Rachel trails off, looking around some more, "This is just so much. I never expected this. It's beautiful and perfect and amazing Quinn. And so thoughtful."

You can't help, but beam with pride. It was a lot of work, but seeing her face right now made it all worth it. "Was it worth waiting a week for?"

"Definitely," she answers with a nod. "I love that chaise. Is it yours?"

"Mhmm," you nod, setting her champagne in front of her.

She bounces a little in her seat, "I've been looking for one of those forever. It's gorgeous and these chairs…Quinn I'm overwhelmed. This is-"

You're delighted and warm all over. This is going better than you could have imagined. She asks if you made her roast beef and potatoes with a giggle. You lift the dome to reveal the completely vegan meal under it.

"I was wondering where my Funny Girl DVD went," she says between bites, "You stole it didn't you?"

You nod guiltily, "I've been watching it obsessively, taking notes and everything."

"Are you going to sing to me?" she asks with a playful smile, taking a bite of her food.

You laugh. You knew she was going to ask that, "I guess I could, but although you are a woman, I am certainly not a man." You're not going to tell her that just in case she wanted to you to sing 'You are woman, I am man', you have the instrumental version on your phone.

Talking with her is easy. It's like you're in your own apartment sitting on the couch picking at Chinese food with her. By the time you're done eating, you're ready to call this a success. She picks up her champagne and walks to the red chaise. She sits down on it and feels the material under her hands. "Can we please, please, please put this in the living room?"

You nod with a smile, but stay in your seat at the table. Sitting down with her could lead to something you're terrified of.

After a thorough examination of the piece of furniture, she lays back on it with a content smile. You're happy to just watch her be happy. You're biting your lip when she sits up and looks at you, "Come sit with me please."

You keep your smile on your face, but behind it you're trying to control your breathing. You slowly rise from your seat and pick up your champagne, knowing it's something for your hands to do instead of awkwardly trying to look like you're relaxed.

You sit next to her, a little farther away that you really wanted to. She closes the space between you and slides her arms around your waist. She holds you tight up against her and rests her chin on your shoulder.

"You know," she says, placing a soft kiss on the curve of your neck, "We're not going to do anything you're not ready for."

You look at her, silently asking how she knew what you were thinking. She smiles and kisses a little high up on your neck, "I've known you for a long time Quinn and we've lived together for a while. I know that look on your face." She kisses you again on the hinge of your jaw.

You close your eyes to allow yourself to feel the entire effect of her kisses. They're everything you imagined her lips on your would feel like and so much more. She's kissed your neck before, but never like this. She's slow and deliberate about it. She's taking her time.

Finally she stops kissing you and just rests her chin on your shoulder, "This is really amazing Quinn. It means so much to me that you did this." She squeezes you one more time and takes the champagne out of your hand, finishing it off herself. You smile at that and relax into her. You just sit there for a moment before she says, "Dance with me?"

"There's no music," you answer quietly. Although you know that is quickly remedied by either one of you whipping out your phones.

"We can make our own," she offers. Before you know it, she's standing and pulling you up with her. She reaches across the lounge chair and turns off the lamp. The glare on the window from the lamp is gone and you have a perfect view of the city.

You pull her body to yours, as you two shuffle from side to side. You rest your cheek against hers with your eyes closed. You've only dreamed about this up until now. Now it's real. It's so real for you right now. You're holding Rachel Berry in your arms on a date. You whisper, "You're so beautiful."

She doesn't reply verbally. Her arms around your shoulders constrict around you and you're lulled into a sense of euphoria. With the candles and the view and her. This is perfect. Everything is perfect.

After swaying together for a long time, a time which seemed like forever and only a few seconds all at once, you both lay back on the chaise, tangled in each other.

Your head is on her chest as you both look out the window at the lights and the river. Her hand is lazily trailing up and down your back. It's soothing and you're sure you've never been more relaxed. She kisses the top of your head, "Thank you Quinn."

"You're welcome," you mumble, not wanting to speak too loud. Like it might break the spell.

However after about an hour of just laying there, you mutually decide that you should go. You have to put in an appearance at work in the morning and she has an early photo shoot.

After blowing out all the candles and grabbing your purse from upstairs, you take her hand and lead the way back to your apartment assuring her that you'll move the chaise into your living room the next day.

"I guess this is the part where we have to say goodnight," she sighs against you as you both stand in the middle of the living room. Your heels have been discarded and you're both sleepy.

"Mhmm," you murmur into her hair. You don't want to leave her.

"This is also the part where I invite you to come upstairs," you can hear her smile and you smile back.

"It's only the first date," you state and kiss her forehead, "But I'll settle for a goodnight kiss."

She sighs heavily, but tilts her head up and captures your lips. She settles a hand on the back of your neck and pulls you into a deeper kiss. When her tongue slides across your bottom lip before carefully stroking your own, you can't think of a more perfect way to end your date. You feel like your whole body was just robbed of any and all air, but you can't find it in yourself to pull away.

But eventually she interrupts your make-out session with a hum. She softly kisses your collarbone. "I apologize for my forwardness. I'm not usually like this after a first date." She giggles into your neck before placing a sweet kiss where her lips rest.

You take a deep breath, "Me either." You know that you need to break contact with her before you take her up on her thinly veiled invitation for a sleepover. "Goodnight Ms. Berry."

"Goodnight Ms. Fabray," she takes a step back, but keeps you hands in hers, "Don't forget that we're meeting Brittany and Santana to buy new dresses for the Tony Awards which is in five days…even though I'm not nominated…"

You pull her back to you, "Your show hasn't been on stage long enough." You kiss her forehead then her cheek before brushing your lips against hers, "You're amazing and next year, you will have a Tony sitting on your dresser."

"You're just saying that because you think I'm hot," she wiggles her butt and giggles.

You laugh with her and give her a peck on the lips, "Totally. But you need to get some sleep. You can't look tired for your shoot."

She sighs again, "I know." She pulls away again, this time letting go of your hands. "Goodnight Quinn."

"Goodnight Rach," you give her a tired smile. Reluctantly you part ways and go to bed. As you fall asleep, there's a smile on your face. Tonight was a success and you can't imagine it going any better.


	23. Chapter 23

"No," Santana points to you. Then points to Rachel, "No." Then she points to Brittany, "Yes."

You and Rachel look down at your dresses and wonder what's wrong with them now. And why the hell Brittany still gets a yes even though she's not actually wearing a dress yet.

Santana sips her coffee with a wicked smirk. You put your hands on your hips, "Just because we're not your almost naked fiancée doesn't mean we don't look good too."

"True dat," Santana tilts her head to the side, "But the pockets on your dress make you look way wider than I know you are and Berry needs a bolder color. But not red. Red's my color."

You catch Santana eyes and give her a small nod. Going into this you told her that your dress needed to be understated. Rachel's dress needs to stand out and yours needs to blend in. You want to play the role of the supportive speculative girlfriend. You don't want any attention directed that you, especially if it takes away from Rachel.

Inside the large dressing room of the boutique you're in, salespeople and concierges bustle in and out. There are three screens set up on the room and you've all decided to take turns. Santana brought one of her books so she took the first shift throwing verdicts at the three of you. Rachel's publicist has been walking in and out, mostly out. She invited herself because she wanted to talk to both of you and now was the only time she could apparently.

You look at the rack of dresses that had been pre-selected for you by the staff. You start sorting through them looking for a color that would compliment a strong color as well as make you part of the scenery. At the Tony's you are an accessory.

You finally settle on a champagne colored dress that sparkles. It stops right above your knee. You glance at yourself in the mirror and fix the top of the strapless dress. You think that you like it, but you're not sure. So you step around the screen and put your hands on your hips, your eyes set on Santana who, once again, has her face buried in a textbook.

"Hey, Dr. Pierce," you call with a smirk on your face.

In high school that would have offended her, but now a huge grin crosses her face as she looks up. "That's Dr. Lopez to you."

You're a little confused. You were sure that one of them would take the other one's last name or at least hyphenate or something. You shrug it off. That's a discussion for another day, "How do I look?"

"It's perfect," she nods, "Get you some matching heels and Ms. Berry has herself a date to the Tony's."

"Matching heels or not, she's my date," Rachel steps up next to you in a very elegant muted teal dress. It hugs every mouth-watering inch of her body. A shiver shoots through your body and you swallow which has become difficult because your mouth has gone dry.

"Uh, Q, you're drooling," Santana quips.

You quickly reach up to your lip and find it acceptably dry. Then you roll your eyes at her. When Santana let's out a wolf whistle, you turn to see Brittany standing on the other side of Rachel in a dark blue evening gown.

"Alright," Rachel says looking between the three of you, "We look super hot and I think I need a picture of this as soon as Santana finds her dress."

She huffs and sets down her book. Then she glances at the rack next to her, "Britt-Britt, red or black?"

"Red," Brittany states and walks over to help her.

You finally turn to Rachel and get up a will power over your body to tell her, "You look amazing."

She smiles back, "You're beautiful as usual Quinn." She pads over in her bare feet and kisses you softly. "And I will definitely have a problem keeping my hands to myself."

"Me too," you grin and lower your head again to capture her lips. You know that this will never get old. The tingle that you get when you kiss her and the rush of excitement the second your lips touch hers.

"So," she slides her hands down your arms and she takes yours, "The hairdresser and make up artist are going to be at our apartment at twelve thirty."

"Hairdresser?" you ask. You get a little uncomfortable at the idea. You shift a little and suck your bottom lip between your teeth.

"Is something wrong?" she asks, her eyes bouncing all over your face, searching for what's wrong.

You remember that you promised her that you'd be honest with her. You look down at her bare feet, "How about I do my own hair and make-up?"

She cocks her head to the side and studies you. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have assumed." She pushes up on her tippy toes, your lips crashing together.

You're surprised that she doesn't ask you why. You know that she wants to know why. She's Rachel Berry. She can't not want to know. You sort through your reasons. You're trying to look attractive, but understated and you're sure that a hairdresser would not share your vision. Plus, you're not really comfortable with her paying for it. You know that she makes more money that you and can afford it. It doesn't mean that you want her paying for everything. "I'd just be more comfortable doing it myself."

"I understand," she smiles back at you.

"Yo," Santana calls from the other side of the room. She's in a red evening gown that looks painted on. You have to admit that she looks hot. Especially standing next to Brittany who is wearing blue. "How do we look?" She snakes her arm around Brittany's waist and holds a champagne glass in the air, both of them posing for a picture.

"Where'd you get champagne?" you ask her as Rachel picks up her phone to take a picture of them.

"I asked for it," she smiles back and takes sip of her drink. "For what these dresses cost, they should serve us dinner." She hands the glass to Brittany who takes a sip.

"Oh, speaking of dinner," Rachel turns to you with a hopeful smile, "I know I should have asked earlier, but after you free for dinner tonight?"

You can't help, but smile. "Of course I'm free."

"Great. It's a date," she hugs your waist and rests her head on your shoulder.

You glance over the top of her head at Brittany and Santana who are pouring champagne from a bottle. They smile at each other before looking down at Santana's engagement ring. She both burst into giggles before kissing and sipping their champagne.

Behind them your eyes catch Rachel's publicist striding back in. She seems nice, the two seconds you talked to her. She pushes her short choppy hair out of her face and readjusts her black-rimmed glasses before surveying the four of you.

You give her a polite smile, which she reciprocates. You really wish you would have heard it when Rachel said her name, but at that moment the Broadway diva was taking off her clothes to try on her first gown so the only thing you could hear was blood rushing through your body and the loud drumming of your heart.

"How do we look, Kathy?" Rachel asks her playfully, throwing her arms around your waist and bending one of her legs, her foot hanging in the air behind her.

Kathy. You know her name now and don't feel like a perv for hearing the sound of Rachel undressing over her introduction. Kathy nods, "Nice choice in attire. Now I just want to go over a little red carpet etiquette." She glances over at Brittany and Santana, "You two will be going as well?"

They both nod, curious as to why she wants to know.

"I think that it will be good if you show up one right after the other," she tells the four of your, "Rachel and Quinn first and then…"

"Brittany and Santana," Rachel jumps in. "Brittany's a choreographer for the new show opening in a few weeks."

Kathy looks impressed and produces a business card out of seemingly nowhere. She hands it to the blonde and says, "If you need a publicist in the near future." After Brittany takes the card Kathy turns to Santana, "Do you need a publicist for anything?"

"Nope," Santana shakes her head, "I'm a med student."

She looks from Brittany to Santana, then back to Brittany and tells her, "That will work really well for you."

Brittany looks bewildered and looks to Santana who looks just as lost. Kathy turns back to you and Rachel, "I changed my mind. I think they should arrive first. Let Brittany talk to a few smaller publications before you two arrive." She takes a deep breath and eyes you, "You're going to have to stand behind Rachel a few feet and off to the side. Try not to look too interested in her interviews. Stay with her entourage or Brittany's friend." She waves flippantly at the two brides-to-be.

"Santana," your friend states her name with a bit of an edge. She may have mellowed out since high school, but she's still Santana, "Her _fiancée_."

"I have an entourage?" Rachel asks, wide-eyed. You know she didn't hear anything after Kathy said she'll have an entourage. She's a star, but is still climbing so she's still going through some of the processes for the first time.

Kathy nods, ignoring Santana and answering Rachel's question. "Just a few well dressed people that will leave you alone as soon as you get to the entrance of the theatre. They walk behind you and stay out of the way when you're taking pictures." Kathy adjusts her glasses and looks down at her phone, "No kissing, no hand holding. You can make goo-goo eyes, but not often. We want to keep this relationship speculative so that goes for all public interaction between now and then. One of my assistants will be at your side during the walk down the red carpet, the whole time. If a reporter starts asking questions about Quinn, then she'll usher you away from the reporter. As she moves you along, you look over your shoulder and tell the reporter your sorry and you wish you had more time or something to that effect."

Rachel nods, like she's in class and the teacher is give her notes. You absorb as much as possible and try to figure out exactly how long it's acceptable to make goo-goo eyes at Rachel. Are you supposed to count in minutes or camera flashes?

Kathy's eyes set on you and you grab Rachel's hand without any effort, lacing your fingers together. If you're honest, this woman telling you how to act sort of reminds you of Coach Sylvester and Rachel's hand firmly holding yours gives you the courage to look her in the eye when she's talking to you, "When a reporter asks to talk to you, you giggle or something and politely decline. You're the shy _friend_ , there to support Rachel."

You nod, "Got it. I'm scenery."

"Exactly," Kathy nods and looks through her phone once more. "If you have any questions you have my number. Brittany I'd love to work with you. You might want some consultation done before your show opens." Kathy tucks her phone into the pocket of her pants suit and nods, "Good luck." Just like that she was gone.

Rachel pivots on her foot closest to your and wraps her arms around your neck. "You're not scenery."

"On Tony's night, I am," you state, folding your arms around her back, "It's not a big deal. It's your night. I'm just happy to be there." You grip her tightly and add, "Besides, I don't think I could handle the reporters and photographers. That's your thing. If any of them want to talk about granite countertops, though…"

She laughs and drops a kiss on your bare shoulder. She takes a step back and takes your hands, holding them out and examining your dress, "Do you like it?"

You nod. It's not flashy, but it's elegant and you think you look good in it.

"I like it too," she lets go of your hand and picks up her phone. "Say cheese."

"Cheese," you grin and fold your hands behind your back, trying to act the part of the shy _friend_.

"Beautiful," Rachel snaps the picture and smiles as she tosses her phone back into her bag. "The best looking date I've ever had."

You dip your head and blush. You're not really used to such compliments. Especially from someone you think to be the most beautiful person in the galaxy.

"Okay ladies," Rachel turns to Brittany who is sitting in an armchair and Santana who is sitting in her lap, "While we're here shall we look at wedding dresses or is it too soon?"

A guilty look coats Brittany's face, "I'd love to, but…"

"She has to go back to work," Santana stands, moving herself off of Brittany's lap. You know that the engagement lessened the tension between them about Brittany's work, but you don't know how much longer the reprieve will last. Hopefully they'll be okay through the next few weeks because after opening night Brittany has a while before her next project.

Brittany quickly changes out of her dress and hands Santana a credit card. Brittany kisses Santana deeply. Santana's left hand moves up to gently rest just the tips of her fingers on Brittany's cheek, her engagement ring gleaming in the light. You quickly whip out your phone and snap the picture. It was a beautiful moment between your friends and you're glad that you can keep a little bit of it with you.

After Brittany left, Santana used the credit card Brittany gave her for both of their dresses. The card you found out belongs to the production company fronting the funds for Brittany's show. They want her to be there so they're paying for everything. As far as choreographers go, Brittany's apparently the best looking one they have and they want her face out there.

Rachel's show has partially paid for her dress so she covers the difference as well as your dress, much to your protest. She insists, once you're in your apartment and your dresses are hung up, that because she picked the boutique and that you're her date and that most of her dress is already paid for that she should cover yours.

Sit on the floor in the kitchen and tilt your head back on the cabinet behind you. She leans back against the counter across from you. "When you take me as your date to the Real Estate Agent of the year awards, I expect you to buy my dress."

You chuckle and shake your head, "I don't think there's such a thing and even if there were, I wouldn't be invited."

"Why not?" she asks, "You're great at what you do. Your boss even gave you the day of the awards off."

"Because it's good publicity for the firm," you let out a sigh. Because of your budding popularity in the gossip media, your boss has put everyone's picture up on the website, yours being the one on top so everyone knows where you work.

"Okay," she sits down next to you on the floor and looks up at the light fixture hanging over the table, "I'm going to tell you a couple of things I've observed with you and you can stop me or tell me I'm out of line if you want."

You don't say anything knowing that she'll take it as a cue to go on.

"You hate your job," she lulls her head to the side to look at you.

You nod. She's got you there.

"I can see it when you leave in the mornings," she pauses. "You're young Quinn and I know that there's nothing that you can't do if you really want to. You can sit here on the kitchen floor and stare at the wall for the rest of your life."

"I think eventually I'd need to eat."

"I'd feed you." She sighs and rests her head against the cabinets behind her, "If you're not happy, then quit. You're too young to be stuck in a job you hate."

"What am I going to do for money?" You ask and you press your finger to her lips when she opens them to speak, "No I'm not mooching off of you anymore than I already do."

She smiles and thoughtfully looks at you, "Two weeks."

"Hmm?"

"That's how long you were going to test drive New York for and that's now long you're going to take to find something you love. To chase your dream."

"I don't have a dream," you lament, pulling your knees to your chest, "I guess…it could have been to get out of Lima, but I did that thanks to you. Now…I don't know. Am I that sad?"

She smiles softly at you and brushes a few wisps of hair that have managed to escape your ponytail out of your face, "It's not sad. You just haven't discovered what your passion is. You'll figure it out soon."

"Easy for you to say," You lean into her and tilt your head so that it's resting against hers, "You came out of the womb singing show tunes."

She giggles and wraps her arms around you, "You'll find something. You just have to let yourself do what you love to do. What do you love to do?"

You can think of a lot of things you love to do and they all revolve around her. That's not what she's talking about so you just shrug, "I don't know."

"Well," she runs her fingers up and down your side, "You're very artistic."

"Really?" You've never really thought that about yourself. Maybe you are. As far as knowing yourself, you're pretty far down on the list of people who know you the best.

She nod affirmatively, "Yeah."

"How do you know?"

"Just the way you do things. How you lay out dinner, the way you give directions, how you look at things," she pauses and when she sees your rapt attention, she bashfully smiles.

You appreciate her insight and wonder how she could have noticed so much.

You both sit in silence for a few minutes just sitting on the floor breathing. When she speaks, her breath caresses your neck and you try to hold in a shudder, "You're beautiful."

The way she says the words, quietly with a deep gravity behind them, strikes you and you don't know what to make for them for a long time, so you don't reply. She pulls away a bit and stutters, like she's embarrassed, "I mean you could be a model."

"Probably not," you make a weird face because modeling, you've always thought, was for bimbos.

She pulls you back to her again and rests her cheek on the top of your head, "Or a photographer."

"Maybe."

"Or a writer."

"Maybe."

"Or you could produce a Broadway revival of Evita so I could finally play Eva." She adds, trying to lighten the mood.

You laugh with her and take her hand. When the laughter dies down you turn her hand palm up and start tracing the lines on it. "I don't know Rach. I've made a lot of changes in the past few months. What if I don't recognize me anymore?"

"If not recognizing your means that you're happy then I'll not recognize you too," she offers sweetly.

You turn your head and peer up, into her eyes. You know she means what she says. She wants you to be happy. You see caring in her eyes. So much so that you start to choke up. As the tears build in your eyes you close your eyes, wishing them away. You have done a lot of crying in the past few months. A song comes to mind and you sing the one verse in your mind. _This is the story of a girl who cried a river and drowned the whole world_. Yup. If you could find a job where crying weekly was a requirement you'd be damn good at it.

You shake your head to ride yourself of the thoughts and the song. After a beat you start to giggle. "Why are we sitting on the floor?"

"I was just wondering the same thing," she giggles right long with you.

You stand and help her up. She glances at the clock on the stove, "Well I guess I should get going. Are we still on for dinner tonight?"

"Of course," you smile and meet her in the middle for a chaste kiss.

After she goes, you take a quick shower and start to pick out something to wear. You wait to put on the dress that you picked out. You stay in your gray cotton shorts and a tank top for a while, just laying on the red lounge chair that was moved into the piano room. Rachel wanted to put it living room, but there wasn't any room. You and Ethan got it up the cargo elevator, but it took half an hour to get it through the front door, ten minutes on the phone to convince Rachel that it wouldn't fit in the living room and then another twenty minutes to get it down the hall and into the piano room.

There's a book in your hand, but you're not really reading it. You're staring at the words, but you don't know what they say. You're not really thinking about anything in general. You phone rings next to you and you pick it up off of the floor. "Hello?"

"Hey," Rachel's voice is smiling, "You ready?"

You look down at your clothes and out the window, realizing that it's dark outside and your non-thinking has taken you over two hours. "Uh, almost."

"Okay," Rachel answers, "I'll be there in fifteen minutes to pick you up."

"Great," you stand up, tossing the book onto the chair and run down the hall into your room.

You pull your dress over your head and grab a sweater. It's starting to get cold outside and you don't know how much longer you'll be able to wear your beloved sundresses. You look at your hair in the mirror. You blow-dried it before reading so it looks okay. You grab a headband off of your dresser and look at yourself in the mirror. Then you yank it off and shake your hair out. Much better. After some last minute makeup and picking out the perfect flats, you're ready.

And just in time because as soon as you step out of your room, purse in hand the front door opens.

Rachel tells you that you look beautiful and whisks you off into a waiting taxi downstairs. You stop at a small restaurant a few miles away. She tells them that she has a reservation for Rachel Berry and you're immediately seated at a table for two in the back.

The walls are a deep red, accented with luscious heavy drapes gathered on the walls and dim lighting, completing the romantic feel. By the spicy smell and the entrées on other tables you figure that this is a Spanish restaurant.

Just as you're seated a waiter appears. Rachel ordered a bottle of Sangria and waved off the menus, ordering for both of you. You quirk your eyebrow and she just grins at you, "Trust me."

You do trust her so you nod and go with it. The tapas she ordered were amazing. You don't think your mouth has ever experienced that much flavor at once and the Sangria was delicious. You finished off the whole bottle between the two of you and Rachel bought two bottles to take home. You laughed and talked and you know you've never been that comfortable around anyone apart from Santana in your life.

When you stand you don't remember walking to as much fun as it was when you two lean on each other all the way out to a waiting taxi.

As soon as you get inside and lock the door, you find Rachel's lips on yours. Then they trail down your neck and cheek and lips again. They're everywhere and you can't stop the soft moans that escape your mouth. You both stumble to the living room and tumble onto the couch. She's on top of you, kissing your deeply, your tongues moving together, mirroring the way your bodies are grinding together.

Suddenly she pulls away with a giggle and looks down at you, "I don't know about you, but I'm kinda drunk."

You smirk and nod, continuing to run your hands up and down her sides, "Mhmm. Me too."

She lowers her head to your lips and gives you a light kiss, your lips barely touching, "I like kissing you."

You get out as she's kissing your jaw, "I like kissing you too."

"Since we're both kinda drunk," she adds as she gently bites down on your earlobe, "Let's keep it at kissing for tonight."

You whole-heartedly agree, nodding your head. Of course you would have agreed to anything if she kept doing things like that. "Yeah."

She giggles at your breathy reply and she adds, kissing down your neck as she rids you of your sweater, "Okay, maybe a little second base action too."


	24. Chapter 24

"Rachel!" you call from the front door of your apartment. Rachel and her stylist have been locked in her room for over two hours. "Brittany and Santana are going to be here in two minutes and our limo is here."

"I'm ready!" she calls, walking out of her bedroom hopping out on one foot, pulling her heel on her other foot.

"Holy crap," you breathe. All the red carpet and paparazzi photos in the world never made her look as amazing as she does right now.

She smiles widely at you and opened the door for the stylist, "thank you Paulo."

The stylist simply nods and walks out.

You start to walk out of the apartment but she closes the door in front of you. "Rachel, we need to go," you state, one of your hands on your hips, the other hanging your clutch over the ground.

She smiles mischievously and sets her own clutch down on the entry table next to you, "you said we have two minutes."

"More like one now," you turn to open the door but her hands on your hips stop your movement.

You turn to ask her what's going on when your back is forced onto the door and her lips smash into yours. "I can't kiss you for the next couple hours so I'm going to kiss you now."

"Oh okay," you like the way she thinks.

You feel her hands creep up your stomach and trace the underside of your right breast. You sharply inhale and lull your head back against the door, "No fair."

You love that you can feel her smile against your neck. She plants a few safe but less than innocent kisses on your neck, as to not make any visible marks. You squirm against the door. Your make out sessions have been slowly escalating. Every night up to today you've taken each other out on dates bringing your grand total of six if you count the lunch she took you to yesterday. They always end the same way. You're both breathing hard when she pulls away. You've been very respectful of her not going any farther than she wants but you feel empty when she leaves you hanging. She's always the one who initiates and she's always the one that terminates. You used to be scared of sex with her but now you know you've never wanted to feel anyone else's skin on your skin more in your whole life. She's pretty forward about what she wants and when you do something she likes her sighs and moan are your reward. You're pretty sure you could get off on kisses from her alone but you wouldn't oppose anything she might want to try.

You feel a familiar pressure build in your stomach so you pull back a little bit. "We need to go."

She pulls away from you so you can step away from the door. You notice her lip gloss a little smudged along her top lip so you carefully wipe away the stray gloss with your finger and add it to yours. Luckily you're wearing the same color.

She grins and smacks you in the rear with her clutch. "I wish we didn't have to share our limo."

You giggle, "If we had our own limo, it'd be obvious what we were doing the whole way there."

You meet Brittany and Santana downstairs at the limo. They both look the picture of perfection as they easily slide. You gesture for Rachel to get in first. She smiles at you and gets in. You follow her and the driver closes the door.

"You two look awesome," Brittany grins.

"Thanks," Rachel smiles back, "You both look very awesome as well."

Santana looks around the mini bar and pulls out a tiny bottle of something. She unscrews the cap and downs it like a shot. She shakes her head, "Okay. All ready." She turns to you and Rachel, "Your crazy publicist emailed up with instructions."

Rachel nods, "I got one as well."

You frown. You didn't get one. Rachel notices your frown, taps a few things on her phone and hands it to you. Its very detailed instructions for each of you. You see yours. It's basically the same things as yesterday. Don't talk to reporters and be coy. Stay with Brittany's friend or the entourage. No PDA with Rachel. There are a few other instructions like smile as much as possible and talk to other people that aren't with Rachel.

"I swear to god if that woman does not learn that just because I'm not all fuckin' famous and a resident on Broadway means I don't have a name, I will strangle her," Santana crosses her arms. She adds a few choice curse words in Spanish that you understand, but don't translate for a lost looking Rachel.

Brittany pushes some of her hair, which is in a loose up-do, out of her face and places a calming hand on Santana's arm, "When I meet with her in Saturday, I'll tell her that you're Santana and you're my fiancée and you're the most important person in the world 'kay?" She rests her chin on Santana's shoulder and you can see Santana immediately soften.

You look over at Rachel who is smiling at them. After a moment she looks at you and rests her head on your shoulder. "Thanks for coming with me Quinn."

"I'm more than happy to be your non-date," you kiss the top of her head and put your arm around her.

"I'm contractually obligated to show up to some sort of after party, sponsored by some electronic company or something," she mentions, "But you don't have to go if you want. Or if you want we can go to a couple other ones."

"I have to one sponsored by a shoe," Brittany pipes up.

"We'll drop you two off at your party and then when the limo drops us off we'll send it back," Rachel states, "We can take a cab home Unless Quinn doesn't want to stay." She turns to you looking for you answer.  
"I'll stay," you offer.

She smiles, "Good. I promise it's not like the VMA awards after parties with half naked woman dancing on tables or bottle of Hennessey and whatnot being passes around," Rachel frowns in disapproval, but brightens up. "This one is a sit down dinner at a very upscale restaurant. You remember the list right?"

You nod. You remember the list. She looks at you like she wants you to recite it so you do, "Katie Finneran, Angela Lansbury, Patti Lupone, Liza Minelli, and Barbra Streisand."

"If you see any of them," she says with the most serious look on her face, "I don't care what I'm doing. Tell me. Even if I'm already talking to one of them. I have modeled my career after them. Every single one of them has won a Tony Award and if I'm going to win next year, I have to talk to them. It's imperative."

You nod. You have your mission for the night. Look pretty in the background and locate these Tony Award winning women.

When you pull up to the limo line, you look out the window. The mass of people outside is astounding. There are cameras everywhere.

"Hey check it," Santana looks out the window, "There's that place with the awesome cannoli and ice cream thing."

"You wanna go there afterwards?" Brittany asks.

"If someone's doing one of those monologue things and me seat is empty," Santana smirks, "That's where I'll be."

You glance over at Rachel who is looking out the window wide eyed. You keep forgetting this is her first time here. Brittany is super calm and Santana is already acting bored. Rachel's trying to be calm, but you know she's really excited. For you it's neither here nor there.

"Well," Rachel watches the gate for the red carpet show up outside the window and looks to Brittany and Santana, "You two are out first."

When the door opens, Brittany doesn't hesitate to step out. Santana easily follows her and they walk to the staging area, hand in hand.

You look over Rachel's face and know that she's absolutely beside herself. "Rach," you wait until she looks at you, "Deep breath okay?"

She takes a deep breath and nods. "I'm ready."

You smile and smooth out a stray piece of hair, "You got this. You've been practicing for this since I've known you."

She nods again and puts on a smile before stepping out of the limo. You see her hand twitch to help you out, but it's immediately pressed to her side. You smile at the action. She gets points for almost helping you anyway.

You both pause outside the gate. She flashes her smile to a man who seems to know who she is and lets you both in. Brittany and Santana are already on the other side, schmoozing. They're both talking to a friendly looking reporter and laughing.

When you turn to look back at Rachel, you find that you're already flanked by some well-dressed strangers. Rachel looks around herself and quirks an eyebrow, "I suppose this is my entourage."

"Ms. Berry," a man in a muted gray suit with messy brown hair smiles at her, "I'm going to be your personal assistant for the night."

"You're the reporter blocker?" Rachel asks bluntly.

The man laughs, "Yes. I'm Michael."

"This is Quinn," Rachel introduces you and he smiles a charming smile at you.

"Right this way," Michel extends his arm toward the line of reporters lining the carpet. She glances at you with a face-splitting smile before following Michel to her first interview.

You watch her and have never been more proud in your life. You notice her entourage move so you move with them, staying close to them, but keeping a subtle eye on Rachel. Santana has broken off from Brittany and is now at your side as you two slowly move long the far side of the red carpet while Brittany and Rachel jump from reporter to reporter.

You turn to one of the girls in the entourage. She looks about your age so you introduce yourself. Her name is Alison and she goes to NYU. She's doing this to pay for her books. She and Santana get started talking about the ridiculous price of books and then start bantering about which school is better. Santana keeps telling her that NYU is for yuppies while Alison says that Columbia is for people who couldn't get into NYU.

Their conversation is interrupted when Brittany calls Santana over for a picture. Your friend has no problem strutting over to Brittany and having her picture taking for a million different angles. You see a bit of high school Santana in her, but are proud of her for not worrying that she's getting her picture taken with her fiancée.

You look to Rachel and find her looking back at you as she's ushered to another reporter. She scrunches up her face in disapproval. You know it's about the fact that you're being kept apart by a publicist and her well-dressed minions. You just give her an understanding smile and a playful wink. That brings a smile to her face as her attention is turned.

Santana returns to your side with a sigh, "Well I'm bored."

"We just got here," you smirk. You can tell she's just putting up a front. Santana likes getting her picture taken and the more pictures circulate with them together, her engagement ring on her hand, the more people know that Brittany belongs to her.

"Yeah, those canollis are looking better and better by the minute," she looks around, "How long do you think it would take me to run over there if you held my shoes?"

The whole way down the red carpet you skillfully dodge the few reporters who seem to know or think they know who you are. You and Santana make a game out of seeing people on the red carpet. You point out someone and she tries to find someone who was in a film or TV show with them then you have to pick a different person who was in a movie with the person she picked. You stick with TV and movies because neither one of you is a Broadway aficionado.

As you're playing you spot someone that you vaguely remember. It takes you a minute, but you remember her from the flash cards Rachel made you. She's from the list of women Rachel wants to meet. You look from Katie Finneran to Rachel and back. She looks like she's a couple minutes from walking into the theatre so you throw caution to the wind and walk up to Rachel. She immediately turns and smiles at you. Michael frowns and tries to get between you. But before he can do that, you gently take Rachel's arm and pull her closer whispering in her ear, "Katie Finneran is behind me."

Rachel looks over your shoulder and her eyes glaze over when she sees her. Rachel mumbles out an 'excuse me' to the reporter before b-lining over to the woman. You move back to the entourage and Santana while watching Rachel 'accidentally' bump into one of her idols. She walks up next to her, says a few words the man with Katie before turning to Katie looking completely surprised. She's good at this.

"You're supposed to stay with the group," Michael tells you, looking less and less handsome with his condescending tone.

"You're supposed to stay with Rachel," you resist calling him an asshat. The last thing Rachel needs if for her speculative date to be cause on camera calling a man an asshat on the red carpet at the Tony's.

He grunts and walks off in her direction. You roll your eyes and Santana just smirks at you. "Check you out with the self-control Q. I would have punched him."

You nod, "I know you would have and we'd be on our way to the NYPD jail to bail your out." You bump shoulders with her, "Okay so I saw Scarlett Johansson who was in _Vicky Christina Barcelona_ with Penelope Cruz _._ "

"Crap," Santana looks around, "Have you see the _Iron Man_ dude anywhere?"

"He has a name," Alison adds, clearly amused by you and Santana.

"Yeah well we're too busy at Columbia, curing diseases and saving lives to watch movies like students at NYU," Santana smirks and glances over your shoulder, "Bam. Eric Bana."

"No way. What were they in together?" you turn around and squint. You're not even sure that's Eric Bana.

" _The Other Boleyn Girl_ ," Alison answers for Santana and then smiles playfully at Santana, "You know just in case you're too busy at Columbia for history as well."

"That movie was so not historically accurate," Santana bites back a smile, "I guess you would know that if NYU didn't teach their history classes through Twentieth Century Fox."

You're sure that they can go on like this for hours so you just tune them out and look around. You can scratch one name off of your list. Now where are the others?

Arms sliding around your waist from the side distract you from your search. Although Brittany hugs are a nice distraction from anything. She hug her back, "How are the interviews going?"

She shrugs, "They're okay I guess. I think I'm done though. They keep asking the same questions. They ask about the show and how long we've been working…." She grins smugly, "And my super hot fiancée." You glance at your friend and see that her eyes are soaking up her super hot fiancée. You swear you see her lick her lips before she lets go of you.

Santana turns away from Alison with she hears Brittany mention her. Santana makes the introductions and Brittany slides up next to Santana, her hand dangerously low on Santana's back. You let out a small sigh and look around for Rachel. You want her to touch you like that. You want her to show someone that you're hers with a possessive hand placement. You just want to talk to her.

"Quinn!" someone behind you calls. You turn around and see a reporter waving at you. She wave at him, but shake your head with a shy smile. You turn back around to Brittany and Santana to find that she and Alison are arguing again. Brittany disengages from Santana and walks over to you, wrapping her arms around you.

"I know you're like bummed," Brittany quietly says, holding you harder against her body, "But one of the cool things about dating girls is that we can say we're going to the bathroom together and it's not weird." She pulls away and grins at you, "You know, just sayin'."

You take her hint and giggle a bit. You pull her into another hug and tell her, "I love you Britt."

"I love you too," she rubs your back.

"Hey," Santana slinks up next to you, "No stealing my fiancée. Especially not in front of me and especially not without a fight."

Brittany pulls Santana into the hug too and you find yourself with your head sandwiched between your two best friends' heads. You stay like that for a while before a man clearing his throat behind you breaks you apart. You look up to find Michael. "Ms. Berry has asked me to inform you that she's inside the theatre, in the nearest restroom to the entrance and she thinks that her…" he mumbles something you can't quite hear."

He puts his hands behind his back and scans behind you before he uncomfortably chokes out, "She's having an upper undergarment problem."

"Really?" Santana eyes him, "You can't say bra? Brassiere? Boulder holders?"

Michael is turning every shade of red you can think of. You grin at your friend who winks at you. Santana is good at revenge even if its minor like this. Hopefully he'll think before speaking condescendingly to someone again.

Brittany takes Santana's hand as they say goodbye to Alison and the rest of the entourage at the door of the theatre. You walk in behind them, immediately searching for the bathroom. Brittany sees someone that she knows so she and Santana go talk while you enter the bathroom. There's surprisingly no one in the bathroom considering it's a women's restroom. "Rach?"

"Oh thank god," Rachel opens one of the stalls and peeks out the door. "I texted you like six times."

You look down at your clutch and open it, finding that she has in fact texted you six times. The first few are sweet. _You look beautiful_ and _I wish you were doing this interview with me_. The last couple are a little more urgent. _Can you tell if my bra is broken?_ to _I think the hook came undone,_ to the very urgent, _I'm having a major bra problem. Meet me in the restroom by the door please._

"Sorry," you answer and step toward her, "Did you figure out what's wrong?"

"Yeah the hook keeps coming undone," she answers pulling you into the stall and locking the door behind you. She looks down at her dress, "Look." She pulls the front of her dress down and shows you the unhooked bra, "What am I going to do Quinn? What if I have to fix it and someone takes a picture of me?"

You bite your lip and try to shove your mind away from the fact that she's almost flashing you. You scratch your arm and try to find a solution. "Um…do you have any safety pins?"

She shakes her head, her eyes worried and desperate. You look down at your own dress and then back at hers. "I guess we could…trade." You're suddenly wishing you had worn a different dress. One with straps or some kind of built in thing or something. But she's the star and she's the one people will be taking pictures of.

"A-are you sure?" she asks, "I'm sure I could just-"

"No, it's fine," you try to smile to reassure her, "If it bugs me too much I'll just duck in here and take it off."

She smiles at you and surprises you with a kiss. It's short, but sweet and it leaves you beaming. "I'm sort of loving this whole dating a girl thing." She mentions.

You chuckle and reach around behind you to unhook your strapless bra, "You might like it a little less when I tell you that I need to borrow those shoes. They're so cute."

She wriggles out of her bra without exposing herself to you. You manage to do the same and you two switch. "I think that just makes it that much better," Rachel answers, pulling the bra up a little and readjusting.

You're trying to figure out how you're going to use this bra without the straps before finally giving up. It won't work. You're going to have to go braless. Luckily this dress is snug to begin with it's not really that big of a deal. You just hope that no one can see through it if a camera flashes at you. You mention this to Rachel.

"Oh," she digs in her clutch, "I'll take a picture of you and see." She pulls out her phone. She looks at the phone and points it to you, "Say cheese."

"Really?" you quirk your eyebrow.

"C'mon," she lowers the phone, "I'm not taking the picture unless you smile."

At that, you can't help, but smile. She takes the picture and the flash goes off. She looks at the screen for a moment before sighing, "Well damn."

"You can see through it?" you ask, moving to her side to look at the picture.

"No I can't," she bites her lip trying to hide a smile.

You smack her with your clutch, "Perv."

She giggles and tucks her phone back into her clutch, "Don't want the paparazzi to get a hold of that one. You're holding my bra and standing in front of a toilet."

You roll your eyes and shove the bra into your clutch, "You're impossible."

In one swift move she pins you to the stall wall with a searing kiss. Your hands automatically go to her waist, sliding around to her back pulling you hard against you. Just as your hands are about to slip down the curve of her ass, you hear the door squeak open. You both pull away trying to control your heavy breathing. Luckily the stall door is only barely above the ground so no one can tell that there's two of you in there.

You listen as two pairs of heels quickly shuffle to the stall farthest from the door and the door closes and locks. Your eyes widen as the sound of sloppy kisses and gently sighs can be hear. You look at Rachel who has the same look of terror on her face.

"You look so fuckin' sexy right now," a female voice growls.

Your panic dissipates at the voice and you find that Rachel is smiling. You call out, "Can you two keep it in your pants for one night?"

"Quinn?" Brittany's voice asks.

"And Rachel," Santana huffs, "Seriously Q? You ruin everything. Get out."

"Hey," Rachel calls back with a laugh, "We were here first. Find your own bathroom."

You giggle. You know that this has effectively ruined all of your sexual moods so you all slowly exit, readjusting items of clothing as you primp in the mirror.

"One for the road?" Rachel asks and puckers her lips.

You steal an innocent kiss before following her out the door. You turn behind you as the door swings shut to see Brittany and Santana rush back into one of the stalls.

You and Rachel take your seats. You're not sure where Brittany and Santana are supposed to sit, but you hope that it's close to you. Rachel is scheduled to sing in the middle of the awards and she's going to leave a few minutes after it starts. So you'll be sitting here by yourself, next to this guy that you've seen before but have no idea where you've seen him and a couple seats down from David, you've notices.

"I wish you didn't have to go," you whisper and pout.

She gives you a sweet smile and you can tell she's trying not to kiss you in the smallest way, "You can some sing with me."

"I don't think they would like that very much," you offer with a grin and a small shake of your head.

"I don't care," She rests her head on your shoulder and you rest yours on the top of her head.

"Kathy would be blowing a gasket if she could see us right now," you tell her quietly.

Rachel repeats her previous statement. Her head suddenly perks up and she looks at you, "Wanna go home?"

You look confused at her, "I though you've been dreaming of this your whole life."

"Oh yeah," she sighs and sinks back into her seat. She retrieves her phone from her clutch and taps out a quick message. You find yourself intrigued when your clutch buzzes in your lap. You dig out your phone and find a text from Rachel. When you read it your heart screeches to a stop. _But you look so hot and I know you're not wearing a bra, which makes it worse. It's not fair!_

You look over at her. She has the most mischievous smile on her face you've ever seen. You don't know what to say to that. Luckily you don't have to. She stands from her seat, "I need to go backstage and warm up."

You give her your best pout although if she offered to stay, you wouldn't let her. She just smiles down at you with an adoring smile that gets your heart back to cruising speed and beyond. She kisses one of her fingers and presses it to your lips before walking off.

You cautiously look around. You're pretty sure that no one just saw that although you're sure that some friends do that and it could easily be explained. When no one is staring at you, you sink back into your seat. You look at your phone. You have plenty of entertainment on there to keep you busy and entertained until this thing starts.

You scan through your phone for something to do. You open your pictures and start to go through them. You realize that you have a bunch of pictures of Rachel. You smile at each candid picture that you have of her. Most of them are from your dates. Some of them are from your apartment when she's doing something. She insisted that you take a picture of her making dinner one night. It turned out horribly, but she was proud that at least one of the side dishes turned out okay.

A text interrupts your memories. You open a picture message of Rachel backstage posing with Patti Lupone. You smile and check that one off of the list.

The lights dim and you put your phone away. The first thirty minutes is fun. The host is funny and the music is great. Rachel absolutely kills her song and you couldn't be more proud of her. A few minutes after her song, she appears next to you and sits in her seat.

You watch the awards together. Her head rests on your shoulder. It's dark, but you don't actually care anymore if anyone sees you. She's so amazing and you just want to touch her. Your hands are intertwined between you. When you see a camera near you, she picks up her head, but when the cameras are gone she scoots closer to you.

She claps appropriately and you're proud of her for being supportive of other artists even though she wasn't nominated. You're sure that they're nearing the end because you don't know how many awards that they could possibly give. Cameras near you so you both sit up. You feel your phone vibrate so you let go of her hand to dig it out of your purse. Kurt's calling you. You silence it and put it back. You can call him back later. You're surprised that he isn't watching this.

Rachel perks up as the cameras rest on her. You sit up as well because you know you're on camera as well, being next to her. You turn your attention to the host who at best for you tonight has been a Charlie Brown adult. But you feel the cameras on you so you feel that you need to pay attention.

"And lastly we have the Tony's newest special award. Newcomer of the Year. This award is new to this year and is introduced to recognize the rising stars of Broadway. The winner of this year's Tony Award for newcomer of the year is an actress that had shown incredible talent on stage and an incredible work ethic off of the stage," he pauses, pulling the card out of the envelope, "This year's newcomer of the year, Rachel Berry."  
You're shock, but you turn to Rachel who is way more shocked than you are. She looks at you and you smile to let her know that it's real. She did just win a Tony Award. You stand and pull her up with you. Everyone is looking at her and she needs to get up on stage. You don't expect her to throw her arms around you, but when she does you smile and hug her back. After a moment, you pull away and turn her around directing her in her daze toward the stage.

It's a long walk, but she makes it and hugs the host before taking her award. She steps up to the podium and million watt smile on her face.

"Oh my gosh I don't have anything written," she squints into the lights of the stage and takes a deep breath, "I guess I'll just start thanking people. Um, my dads for fostering a love of music and art in me and for supporting me no matter what. Walter our producer and Freddie our director. My whole cast and crew are amazing. Kathy and Paulo. Um, my friends that are here with me tonight. Brittany Pierce for challenging me with her choreography in high school and making me a better dancing today. Santana Lopez for" She laughs, "…testing me reflexes in high school and both of them together for showing me that true love never dies." She pauses and closes her eyes to remember before opening them again, "The rest of my show choir class at McKinley High. The original New Directions: Kurt, Mercedes, Mike, Tina, Matt, Sam, Finn, Noah, Lauren, and Artie. Um Will Schuester for encouraging me to follow my dreams. This is truly truly a dream," her eyes squint out over the audience but she finds you through the light, "And thank you so, so much Quinn. For reminding me what passion is. Being my confidante and my best friend. I love you," she smiles back over the crowd, "I love you all. Special thanks to the people who come from all over to Broadway; I hope you're all as inspired, as I was when I first came here. Thank you." with one last gracious nod, she's lead off of the stage.

You're in shock. You're not sure that she really meant that 'I love you' or if it was even directed at you, but you're on cloud nine at the mere thought. She thanked you on nationally broadcast television.

Your phone vibrates again and you pull it out thinking it might be Rachel. Instead it's a text from Santana. It simply reads. _You are soooo getting laid tonight._


	25. Chapter 25

I don't know if I should really warn for sexy times as they're pretty tame as far as sexy times go, but I'm going to anyway. Santana was right. Nudity ahead.

* * *

The awards conclude with you haven't seen Rachel come out from backstage yet so you seek out Brittany and Santana who was talking to a large group outside. You slide up next to Brittany who puts her arm around you. "That's so awesome for Rachel."

You nod with a bright smile. You've never been more proud of anyone in your whole life.

You get another text. This time it's from Rachel. She tells you to meet her out back and bring Brittany and Santana. The limo is waiting.

Once you're all out there, you pile into the limo then Rachel throws her arms around you and kisses you passionately. When she pulls away she says with wide eyes, "I won a Tony award."

"You did," you grin back. You take her face in your hands, "I'm so proud of you."

You make-out for a little while before you feel the limo stop. Brittany and Santana tell you goodnight with knowing smiles. You tell them to have fun and fluff your hair a bit. You didn't even realize that you were kissing her for so long in the limo until you made it all the way to the after party without knowing it.

The after party was a boring blur. You do know that Rachel found and met Liza Minelli and Angela Lansbury. The next thing that you remember is being slammed against the back of your apartment door. In a frenzy of lips and tongues and teeth your dress is unzipped and pooled at your feet. She takes a small moment to admire your bare upper body and panty clad lower body before kissing down your neck and softly kneading your breasts in her hands. Your hands search for any of her skin, but don't find it because of her dress. You moan and grip her dress trying to get her to understand that you need it off of her.

She smiles and kisses you hard one last time before taking your hand and dragging you to her room. She sits you on the bed and takes off her dress and heels letting them pool at her feet, carefully stepping out. Then she sits next to you and pulls you into her lap so that you're straddling her. She takes one delightfully sensitive nipple into her mouth and lightly swirls her tongue around it. You don't know how you've gone this far in your life without feeling like this.

You never really understood the need to touch someone all the time. You just thought that the people who hung all over their significant other were needy and had some dependency issues or, like Brittany and Santana, they were just horny all the time. But you get it now. You get that pull; the need. You understand the want to constantly be in physical contact. The rush is unbelievable.

Her mouth is exploring. She's being slow and careful, giving herself time to learn what makes you crazy. You arch your back into her when she softly bites down. You wrap your fingers in her beautiful hair, careful not to pull. She moves to your other nipple and the ache between your legs grows that much more.

Her tongue blazes a trail up your neck and she nips at your jaw. You moan before her lips close over yours. You unhook her bra, or rather your bra, and slide it off of her arms. As her breasts become exposed, your mouth starts to water. You wonder if they taste as good as they look. You test out your theory and you moan together. She tastes exquisite.

You go on, exploring each other's upper bodies for quite some time. Finally you push her onto her back, your body overriding your mind. You need to feel her fingers in the most intimate of places and you need to feel hers.

She flips you both over and she sits up. The look of surprise on her face tells you that grinding your cores together was inadvertent, but oh so delicious. She runs her hands up your stomach, lightly over your breasts before cupping your face. Her lips meet yours in a short, sweet kiss. She rolls her hips forward and rubbing herself against you.

You pull her down to your lips wanting to feel her whole body pressed against yours. This is nothing like you've ever experienced and you're half convinced that no one in the whole world has ever experienced this feeling either.

As her lips crash into yours for a heated kiss, your hands roam down the small of her back to the top of her panties. You're running on instinct now. This is uncharted territory. You slide your hand between the two of you and over the front of her panties. She moans loudly as you his a particularly wet spot between her legs.

You pull your lips away from hers, looking into her eyes. They're glazed over with lust and she frantically nods trying to get you to get on with it. Your slide your hand down the front of her panties, tentatively letting your fingers explore. You recognize the territory. You have your own and there were plenty of pictures when you went to visit your gyno. It's just a matter of finding out what she likes.

So far, there isn't much that she doesn't like. Her breath is ragged on your neck and you feel her hands frantically scratching to get into your panties. Once she has a hand inside your panties, your head falls back against the pillow, "Oh god Rach."

Through your eyelashes you can see her smiling at her accomplishment. Finally you find what you're looking for and slip a single finger into her.

"Oh, ah," Rachel's eyes roll back and her head drops to your shoulder.

You slowly move your finger out and carefully back in. You lose yourself in the sensation of feeling her inner muscles tighten around your finger so much that you don't notice her moving her own finger until it plunges into you. "Oh my-…ah," you pant, trying to remember that she needs pleasing as well. You can't lose yourself in her. Not completely. Not yet.

You both establish a rhythm, grinding and pumping like you've done this together for years. You're the first one to add another finger and she's quick to follow. You kiss her neck, relishing in how tight she is around your fingers.

"Oh…oh," Rachel's thrusts get frantic. You feel like you're about to lose it so you increase your thrusts, hoping that she catches up to you. You take a moment to admire how beautiful she is, lost in her feelings and sensations. You want nothing more than to make her feel the ultimate pleasure so you try to remember everything you've been told. You twist your hand and bend your fingers at the knuckle next time you slide them inside, your palm coming into contact with her bundle of nerves. She cries out and her whole body shutters sending her fingers erratically inside of you causing your own release.

You both try to catch your breath, fingers still inside of each other. Her head is resting on your collarbone and her heavy breaths are teasing your skin. Your free hand comes up and combs the hair out of her face. She hasn't lifted up her head yet so you softly ask, "Are you okay?"

She places a soft kiss where her lips lay and then she extracts her fingers from inside you. You follow suit and she wriggles on top of you. "That was amazing."

You giggle and nod. Her eyes finally find yours and you both smile at each other. She takes a deep breath and runs her fingertips down your cheek and neck, "Can I tell you something cheesy?"

You nod, taking her hand in yours and kissing her knuckles, "Of course."

"I love touching you," she barely whispers, "I don't think I'll ever get enough."

You push the hair out of her eyes. "Me either."

She presses her lips to yours, "That was amazing and we weren't even fully naked." She rolls onto her side. She props her head up with one hand and with the other she's running her fingers along your navel. "Wanna try again?"

Can you really say no to that?

About two hours later, in your after orgasmic haze (okay, multiple orgasmic haze), you look over at Rachel who has a sweet smile on her lips as she looks at you. You can't resist kissing her again. She giggles out of the kiss and says, "I think I could get used to that."

"Please do," you kiss her again, and then kiss her shoulder.

A knock on the front door erupts the beginnings of round number…five or six? Maybe seven. Regardless you're being interrupted and you don't like it. You both just sit there until the knock continues. You huff and grab your panties off of the floor and a t-shirt out of her drawer. When you wretch open the door, Brittany and Santana are standing there grinning at you. Brittany's holding flowers.

Santana turns to Brittany and loudly whispers, "I told you this was a bad idea. They were having sex."

"Sorry about interrupting your sex," Brittany smiles her innocent smile at you, hoping you're not mad at her.

What little anger you had dissipated. You open the door wider for them to come in. Brittany walks in and b-lines straight for Rachel's bedroom.

"Sorry," Santana offers with a shrug, "She wanted to give Rachel flowers tonight for her win."

"It's okay," you tell her and walk with her toward the bedroom where you hope Rachel has found some clothes. "We weren't doing anything when you knocked. Now if you have shown up two minutes later."

Santana chuckles, "You know what? I don't think I've seen or heard you this happy well…ever. In the whole time I've known you, you've never been this happy." She crosses her arms defensively. You know it's because she's not good with the whole sappy feelings thing.

You hug her and she hugs you back. "Thanks San."

After a few seconds of a good hug, Santana steps away, "If you want to continue to hug me you need pants on."

You laugh and lead the rest of the way into the bedroom. Rachel is clothed and Brittany is laying on the bed next to her. They're both smiling and chattering away about something.

Santana sits at the end of the bed and you lay down on the other side of Brittany. "Hey Q, can I borrow some clothes?" Santana asks, still in her dress.

You nod. You start to get up, but one of Brittany's arms flops over your waist. Santana exits the room and Brittany snuggles into your side.

You look over Brittany at Rachel who is digging around in the clothes on the ground. She sees you looking at her and smiles, "I have to go call my dads. Do you know where my phone is?"

"Probably by the front door," you offer, not moving out of Brittany's arms. Rachel slips out and you snuggle into Brittany, letting your eyes slide closed. You didn't really know that you were that tired, but you slip in and out of consciousness. You're pulled out of the hold of sleep by two shifting weights on the foot of the bed.

"Listen up Berry," Santana harshly whispers. You wonder if you need to stop this but give your friend the benefit of the doubt. She pauses, presumably waiting for Rachel's full attention. "I understand that Quinn's had this thing for you forever. I know it's for real even though I was too fucked up in high school to see it then. Believe me had I given her a more studious look, I would have seen it and given her complete hell for it." You can feel Rachel's smile radiate through the air and penetrate you down to your bones. Santana interrupts your tingly feeling when she adds, "Look, she'd kill me if she knew I told you this but the first nationals in New York..." Santana takes a deep breath and you're almost sure you know what's she's going to tell Rachel. She's right. You're plotting her murder as she gathers up the words to tell Rachel. You're thinking poison in her beloved coffee.

"She told me and Britt that she just wants someone to love her." Yup homicide is definitely on your agenda. "She has this thing where she tries to... I dunno, test people's love and so far a lot of people have failed her. I failed her too. For years. And you're like... It. You're the prize. You're the Holy Grail. I can't imagine what insane things she's going to pull to get you to leave her. But if you do, if you stay with her for any longer only to leave her... I don't... It'll be ten times worse than when her dad kicked her out."

You bite your lip. So maybe no more murder because you want to know Rachel's response. You need to know it. You know Santana's right. She's been your sister since you met on the playground before the pressures of life and boys and sexuality got to you two. She knows you almost as well, if not better, than your mom and your biological sister.

"Santana I-"

"Hold up," Santana interrupts Rachel's response and just like that murder is back on the table. You need to know why Rachel was going to say.

Brittany shifts next to you, burrowing farther into you.

"Before you say anything I know that shit happens and couples break up. That's whatever. I'm saying that right now, if you're not sure that you could-not that you do because it's like super soon for you- but if you're not sure that you could fall in love with her, don't do it. She can move in with me and B and we'll all pretend that you don't exist."

"May I answer now?" her voice shows no agitation in the least. She's calm and patient. When Santana doesn't answer, you assume she nodded because Rachel continues, "even if Quinn didn't have such protective people around her ready to pounce on me the second I step out of line, I wouldn't go into this just as experiment or whatever you think this is. I really do care about Quinn. Very deeply. My fathers taught me that love knows no gender as I'm sure you know. I have no reservations about her gender or anything nefarious that happened in high school. This isn't a prank or a joke to get her back for anything. I truly and deeply love her and if I didn't I wouldn't have committed to her; if I couldn't see myself falling completely in love with her in the future."

You can almost hear Santana's brain barreling through Rachel's words searching for anything that's even remotely off. Finally you hear Santana add, "Cool." After a beat she says, "I'll wake B up and we'll get out of here."

"You're more than welcomed to stay," Rachel offers, "I'm sure Quinn won't mind you sleeping in her bed. We can leave them here and I'll pull out the couch."

"Nah," Santana replies, "I can't sleep without her." After a pause and having to fight off your own laughter Santana adds, "Don't look at me like that. Pretend like I never said that."

"The lion has a heart," Rachel coos teasingly.

Santana huffs, "I'll get Brittany and we'll go to Q's room. Don't tell Q about this okay?"

"Cross my heart. I'm going to hug you now okay?"

There's silence so you figure that Santana didn't protest. You hear a soft pat before you hear Santana quietly coax Brittany into waking and feel the blonde's weight leave the bed. A few minutes later, Rachel's body is in her place, pressed up against you. One of her arms possessively drapes over your waist and you feel her softly kiss your forehead. She whispers, "Sweet dreams, Quinn."

You're not sure how long you've been asleep, a ringing interrupts your thoughts. You look up to see Santana standing at your door with your phone in her hand. She tosses it onto the bed just as the ringing stops, "Your phone has been blowing up all night. I'm going to take B home."

You nod to show that you understood. You glance at the clock and find that that is in fact the sun that's blinding you. According to the clock in the room, it's almost seven. Rachel's awake when you look at her. She smiles and gives you a kiss before rolling out of bed and trotting to the bathroom.

You pick up your phone. Eight missed calls? That's weird. Just as you're about to see who it was, your phone starts ringing again. Kurt's face pops up on the screen and you smile. He's probably calling to congratulate Rachel on her win. You press the answer button and say, "Hello?"

"Quinn, it's Blaine," he says, his voice somber and carefully controlled. "I'm sorry to call you so early, but we just landed in Columbus. There was an accident at the tire shop. One of the hydraulic lifts malfunctioned and Finn was under it. Kurt told me that you'd want to know."

"Is, is he okay?" she slowly lower yourself onto the bed as Rachel walks back into the room. She looks confused at you and goes to sit down next to you, rubbing your back supportively. She doesn't speak, but her eyes beg you to tell her what's wrong.

"He's in the hospital right now," Blaine explains. "Burt said it's touch and go. It fell on his chest so there are broken ribs and bleeds. I don't really know the details. I'm sorry."

"Do I," your eyes are watery. You may have not been in love with him, but you loved him. You still do to an extent. You know Kurt has got to be a wreck. "Do I need to-to…." You shake your head, "Can I talk to Kurt?"

You hear Blaine's voice farther away from the phone, "Sweetie can you talk to Quinn?" After a shuffling you hear Kurt sniffling.

"I'm so sorry," you tell him trying to keep your voice together. You glance at Rachel whose face is covered in concern. You bite you lip collecting yourself before whispering to her, "Finn was in an accident at the shop. He's in the hospital."

She understandingly nods and whispers to you, "I'm sorry."

"Quinn," Kurt's voice is shaking, "Can you meet us there? Please? I need you. Finn would want you here. I know you're busy, but-"

"I'll be there as soon as I can," you tell him, clenching your jaw to keep yourself from crying.

"Thank you," his voice is weak and when you hear him hang up, you take a deep breath.

Rachel pulls you into her and kisses your temple, "Do you want me to go with you?"

You think it over. You really want her to be there. You're going to be there for Kurt, but you want someone to be there for you. You may not be married to him anymore, but that doesn't mean that you don't care. But you shake your head, "You have your shows and after the award everyone is going to see you." You turn toward her and fall into a hug.

Her chest tightens and you know she wants to say something, to tell you that she'll go anyway, but you made a great point. She slowly pulls away and gently kisses you. You draw some comfort from it and just look at her. She's worried. Worried about you, worried about Finn and Kurt. You swallow and look away, your eyes dropping to her bent leg between you. She softly asks, "What can I do? Do you want me to pack for you or book your plane ticket? I want to drive you to the airport."

You nod. You want her to as well. "I'll-I'll pack. Can you book my ticket please?"

She nods placing her hand on the back of your head and placing a lingering kiss on your forehead. With that she gets up and moves to her dresser where her laptop is sitting. You stand up and go to your own room. You don't even really remember what you packed, but you're packed in less than five minutes. You set your suitcase by the front door and go to Rachel's bedroom.

She's sitting on her bed, face screwed with concentration. You plop down next to her and rest your head on her shoulder. She wraps a protective arm around you and clicks on the information for a flight. "The closest the flights get today is Columbus. Do you want me to rent you a car or can someone pick you up?"

"I'll get a car," you close your eyes, just feeling her body close to you.

"Are you sure you can drive?" she asks, kissing your head.

You nod. You'll be okay to drive. You need a way to get around town anyway. You rub your forehead and let out a deep sigh. "Everything was going so good…"

"Honey parts of us are still going good," she offers, "Things happen. You'll get through it. You're the most resilient person I know." She gives you a smile that seems unsure if it's the right thing. "I'm sure Finn will be okay."

She finishes booking your flight and reserving your car. Your flight leaves in two hours so you both immediately leave your apartment. She drives because your hands feel unsteady and you assure her again that you're going to be okay to drive once you land in Ohio.

At the security checkpoint, you kiss her and sniffle trying to stifle your tears. You spotted a photographer who apparently notices Rachel, but he gives you a stiff wave when he sees you looking before he turns away to look for someone else. You're thankful for his chosen ignorance.

"Are you sure you don't need me to come with you?" she asks, cupping your cheek.

You shake your head, "I'll be okay. I'm sure he's okay."

"Call me when you land okay?" she runs her fingers through your hair and gives you a sweet kiss, "And if you need anything at all you can call me and I'll come running."

You nod and give her small smile, "Thanks Rach."

"I love you," she kisses you again, "Be safe."

"I love you too."

When you land, it's easy to get a rental car. Once you're on the road to Lima you call Rachel. She answers, wide-awake and you ask her to talk to you until you get to Lima. You don't really want to be alone.

You're about thirty minutes into the drive when she asks, "Are you religiously affiliated?"

"Hmm?"

"Religion?"

You just shrug and let out a thoughtful sigh, "My parents are-were protestant. My mom still goes sometimes. I'm sure my dad now worships at the church of strippers. But growing up I think I went to mass with Santana more than my parents because I thought it was more interesting than my church. My baby was half Jewish. So that makes me…a mutt? Why?"

"I struck me while I was driving home that we haven't really talked about things like sex, religion, politics," she explains, "And I think that those are important things to know about someone that you're dating. We both have time and you need something to think about while you drive."

"Okay," you couldn't agree more. Until you get to Lima the less you think about the accident, the better.

"Okay, so sex or politics?"

"Ew politics," you scrunch up your nose although she can't see it.

She laughs, "We're on the same page there."

"So that leaves sex?" you ask, wondering what kind of sex conversation this is going to be.

She adds, "It's not like…I don't think we need to talk about how we like to have sex. I think we're pretty good at it so far. Just…I'm curious about some other things."

"Me too," you add, "So you didn't wait until you were twenty-five for sex?"

She giggles, "No. Although I've only had one sexual partner besides you thus far."

You pray and hope in your heart of hearts that it wasn't Finn. You heard rumors in high school and squashed them with a violent threat. Not because Finn was your boyfriend, but you didn't want Rachel's innocence taken by him. He was and still is a nice guy but in bed he tends to not deviate from the vanilla. Not that you really ever tried to get him to. For the most part you struggled to not think of Rachel the whole time. Now you feel kind of like an ass for doing that since he's in the hospital, "David?"

Her voice takes a nostalgic tone, "His name was Derek. We met my second semester at Juilliard."

You think over asking her if she regretted it. You finally spit it out.

"I don't," she says. "I loved him and he loved me. He was really sweet about it. He got a job in Europe and I would have gone with him had he not broken up with to keep me here. I don't get what it is about me that makes people push me away to get me to follow my dreams."

You know she's talking about not only Derek, but you as well. You can only speak for yourself, but you're sure if this Derek guys sees in Rachel what you see in her, you know why he did what he did. "You make us want to be better people. We know you're amazing and you'll do amazing things if you give yourself the chance."

"I'm glad he did what he did and that you said what you said," she says and you can see her face as she sees it. She's wearing a sad smile and her eyes are full of grace. After a beat she asks, "What about you? Are Noah and Finn it?"

You exhale and shake your head. "Just one more though. I slept with a coworker before Finn and I got married."

Rachel's voice gets curious. "Were you dating Finn?"

You spot a sign for the Lima city limits, "No. We were temporarily broken up. After Puck I never cheated on anyone ever again. And I never will."

By the small sigh she let's out you know her mood. She knows what you're trying to say even though you won't directly say it. "I'll never question your fidelity Quinn. When you look at me, I know your feelings are strong. I watched you last night at the after party. Guys and girls hit on you and you talked to them but it never failed that when I was looking at you, you were looking at me."

You want to kiss her at that moment. You want to kiss her hard, "I'll always look at you."

"I love you too," she murmurs.

"I'm here," you announce to her.

"Oh okay. Well, call me to let me know how he's doing," she adds, "And how you're doing. Please babe."

"Of course," you turn down the familiar street to the hospital.

"Quinn, please know that if you need anything, anything at all," Rachel adds, "Please call me. I can be there in three hours."

"I promise," you assure her.

"I love you."

"I love you too," you say and wait for her to hang up. When she does, you drop your phone in the cup holder. You feel like you've been holding your breath all the way to the hospital. Once in the parking lot of the hospital, you sit there and stare at the building. It's so square and white and depressing. The windows are small and the curtains are green. You don't want to go in there, but you know you have to. You finally shut off your car and open the door, your foot crunches on the dirt in the asphalt. It's a dreary morning in Lima.


	26. Chapter 26

After asking a receptionist where Finn was, you walk down the sterile hallway. As you walk you get more nervous. Your hand flinches reaching for the air next to you. You're reaching for Rachel's hand. You pause and breathe in before rounding the corner. When you round the corner to the corridor that his room is in, you see Blaine sitting outside the room a bench.

He looks up as you walk closer. He stands up and hugs you, "Hey, how was your flight?"

You shrug, "Okay. Is he-is he in there?"

Blaine nods and opens the door for you. You hand flinches again. You really wish Rachel was here.

When you step inside, you find Burt, Carol and Kurt all standing on the opposite side of the bed. Your eyes fall on the large body in the bed and you gasp. You feel the eyes of the three Hummels on you. You want to look back at them, but you can't rip your eyes away from your ex-husband. His head is wrapped in gauze as is his chest. The little part you can see of his torso that's not covered in a blanket is almost completely black. You're not sure what you expected, but you didn't expect it to be this bad.

A strong hand on your shoulder makes you turn away. Blaine folds you in his arms as you try to hold back a sob that's about to break through. You weren't going to cry. You were going to try to stay unattached and be here for Kurt, but you feel like your heart is physically being ripped apart.

You look across the bed and Kurt's red, watery eyes find you. He moves around the end of the bed to you. Blaine drops his arms and Kurt's take their place. This all feels like a horrible dream.

When you finally pull away, you're wiping away at the tears in your eyes and Kurt is sniffling. "What's going on?" you ask quietly, your eyes back on Finn's bruised face, "What are the doctors saying?"

"There are some internal damage and tears. His brain is swelling," Kurt raises a tissue to his face and wipes under his eyes. Blaine has a supportive hand on his back, "They're going to take him into surgery in a few hours to see what they can do. The doctor said that they're probably going to have to go back in tomorrow. Maybe drill a hole in his skull to relieve some of the pressure…" Suddenly Kurt chokes on a sob and turns into Blaine.

You stay in the room until they take Finn into surgery. Then you, Blaine and Kurt head to the cafeteria. Blaine's worried that Kurt hasn't eaten, but you're sure Kurt's too anxious to eat. You know you are.

So you all just sit in the empty cafeteria, looking at your drinks. Things were just getting good and this happens. Story of your life. You take a sip of your coffee and rub your eyes.

"So I saw you last night," Kurt says, looking up at you, "I saw Rachel finally get her Tony Award." It's painfully obvious that he doesn't want to talk about Finn although you're all thinking about him.

You nod, "She was beside herself last night."

This brings a small smile to Kurt's lips. You look over at Blaine who looks relieved at the smile. Kurt adds, "I bet. You two looked amazing. And I saw Brittany and Santana all over each other. Please tell me that that rock on Santana's hand gained ten carats in the camera."

You smile, "No. It's really that big. Didn't she shove it in your face at Mr. Schue's wedding?"

Kurt shook his head, "I saw it flash in the light, but I never got to see it up close. So are you and Ms. Berry official yet?"

You nod, "Well not to the media and general public, but yeah there have been seven dates. Eight if you could the Tony awards."

"Seven dates in ten days?" he asks, wrapping his fingers around his coffee cup, "That's impressive."

"They have the advantage though," Blaine rubs his chin with a playful smile at you, "They live together. They can make dinner and light some candles and call it a date."

"Hey, everything I'm counting as a date was outside of our apartment," you add, "And our first date was Monday so it's been seven dates in five days."

Kurt turns to Blaine and faux whispers, "I heard same-sex female relationships move fast, but this is ridiculous."

You and Blaine laugh. You don't know about the rumors or anything, but this is definitely the fastest progressing relationship you've ever been in. Well if you don't count the almost ten years that you've been in love with her.

"So how are you two doing?" you finally ask, finishing off your coffee.

Blaine just smiles at Kurt the way you imagine that you smile at Rachel. Complete and utter adoration. Kurt rests his chin in his hand, "We've really been seriously thinking about New York."

"Well you better hurry before I switch careers," you offer teasingly.

Kurt narrows his eyes, looking you over, "What are you going to do?"

You let out a shrug and lean back in your chair, "I have no idea. I just…Rachel and I talked about now much I hate being a real estate agent. After this though, I don't know what I could do. I haven't gone to college. I've done one thing since high school."

"You could be a singer," Blaine offers.

Kurt grins, "Or a model."

"Or a writer."

"A songwriter."

Kurt snaps his fingers, "Photographer."

"Model."

"You already said model," Kurt tells Blaine.

The brunette boy shrugs, "She's gorgeous."

Kurt's eyes get huge and he looks at you completely overwhelmed with excitement, "You could be an actress. It'd be so perfect. You and Rachel could be like the Hepburn-Spencer of Broadway."

"I can't act," you quirk an eyebrow, a little frightened by how excited Kurt is about your nonexistent future.

"Oh please," he waves you off, "You've done it since Kindergarten."

"That's like real life, I-don't-want-anyone-to-know-me acting," you state, but can't help that he has a point.

"If you can fake it in real life, you can fake it on the stage and honey can you fake it," Blaine pipes up.

She just shrugs again, "Maybe I can be all of those at the same time. Plus be an astronaut and a spy for the CIA."

Kurt rolls his eyes, "You know what we're saying. You can do anything you want to Quinn. There's not a doubt in my mind. You are Quinn Fabray dammit." He slaps the table to emphasize his statement, "Stay a real estate agent long enough so that we can move to New York and then do what you want to do."

You just nod. You still have no idea what to do though. You liked that some of Kurt and Blaine's ideas overlapped with Rachel's, but you don't want to make the mistake this time of doing what other people want you to do instead of what you want to do.

Once you're all done with your coffees, you head back to the room. From then on it's just a nerve-wracking waiting game. You stand against the wall by the door with Blaine while Kurt sits next to Carol and Burt paces the length of the room.

After about an hour of no sounds, but the TV on the corner on, Burt stops his pacing next to you. "I'm glad you're here."

You try to swallow the lump in your throat, but it's hard. You just give him a small nod to let him know you understood.

"You have anymore trouble with that guy?" he asks, "You let me know if he does anything, okay?"

It takes you a second to remember what happened at the tire shop. You slowly nod your head. You forgot that Russell lived here. Another something to worry about. You pray that the hex you and your sister put on him doesn't give him the heart attack until after you leave the hospital.

After another thirty minutes of waiting, a nurse steps in to check on the lot of you and inform you that there have been no complications thus far. When she leaves you step out after her and softly ask her for directions.

That's how you find yourself in the hospital chapel. It's a small room with two rows of small wooden benches. It's dimly lit and there is a large cross at the front of the room. You take a seat in the second row back and look up at the cross. It isn't large or ornate. It's not colorful like the glass windows of the Catholic churches you've been in and doesn't have the menorah and altar that the synagogue that you went to with Puck a couple times has. It's small and simple.

You're not sure if you really remember how to pray or if there's a right way to pray. You feel like you send up little prayers everyday. Like please let my car start I don't want to take the subway or please let Rachel look at me like that one more time today. But big prayers? You have no idea.

You wish Santana were here. She may not be all with the belief in god and stuff, but she can usually talk you through prayers. She'll tell you what to ask for and tell you that, from what she hears, you don't really have to promise anything back. She'd tell you to talk to God like you talk to her and then she'd make a joke about how she's as close to a god on Earth as you're going to get.

You think about getting onto your knees, but you'd never talk to Santana on your knees. So you just fold your hands and look at the wall next to the cross like it's looking back at you. You glance around you and find that there's no one around you. You say the prayer out loud, shooting a quick word to the guy upstairs for Finn.

You feel tears coming on again. You wipe your eyes, trying to keep the liquid in and calm yourself down. He's in surgery. Finn will be fine and you'll be back in New York in no time, trying to talk Rachel out of buying a hideous sweater or something.

You walk back to the room after a large amount of time and find everything in much the same state they were in before.

They wheel Finn back in with even more bandages on him. He looks so pale you barely recognize him. You listen closely as the doctors explain about the tearing and the bleeding. They tell you that they did drill into his skull to relieve some of the swelling and that they're going to take him in tomorrow for some bone repairs.

When the doctors leave, Blaine brings in a few more chairs so that everyone but him can sit. He just leans on the back of Kurt's chair and rubs his boyfriend's shoulder supportively.

The more you look at Finn, the more a little part of you breaks. He looks so frail. Like if you reached out and touched him, he would shatter into a million tiny pieces. Before you know it tears are spilling down your cheeks.

Carol offers you a tissue in her first civil action toward you since the divorce. You nod in a thank you and gently wipe your eyes. You really want to call Rachel and just hear her voice tell you that it's going to be okay, but when you look at your phone you can tell by the time that she's on stage right now.

After a few hours of just staring at his lifeless body and watching the heart monitor steadily spike, Burt walks over to you, Blaine and Kurt, "Why don't you guys go home and get some sleep? We'll call you if anything changes."

You and Kurt silently confer and he nods, "Call us if there's _any_ change. We'll be back in the morning."

You follow them out and part in the parking lot. It's cold in Lima tonight and you forgot to pack anything, but a light cardigan. You dig it out of your bag in the backseat and pull it snugly around you. You have some extra clothes at your moms house so you figure that you can just grab one there.

You pull up to your mom's house and find everything dark. Her car is gone. When you knock on the door there's no answer. So you call her. She's surprised to hear from you and even more surprised that you're in Lima. Unfortunately she is not and her spare key is in your sister's possession who is with her at a spa week in Pittsburg.

You tell her that it's not a problem. You'll just check into a hotel. You really don't want to stay in the hotel. You wanted to stay somewhere familiar. Somewhere that doesn't smell sterile or make you cringe when you lay down in the bed. You roll your shoulders and yawn. You guess there is one more place you could try.

Eliot opens the front door with a surprise, but pleasant look on his face. He smiles at you, "Quinn, what are you doing here?" Suddenly his face falls, "Did something happen to Rachel?"

"No," you quickly shake your head, "I just…Finn's in the hospital. He's…really bad and my mom's out of town-"

"Spa trip with your sister," he nods. He puts his hand on your shoulder and pulls you inside, "You're always welcome to stay with us. Whether Rachel's with you or not."

"Thank you," you set your bag down by the stairs just as Steve enters the room.

He smiles, "Hey Quinn. What are you doing here?" His face does the same fall Eliot's did, but this time Eliot cuts him off.

"Rachel's fine honey," Eliot puts his arm around you, "Quinn is here visiting a friend in the hospital and her mom is out of town so she's going to stay with us."

Steve nods and opens his arms, "I'm glad you came to us." When you hug him, he gives you a gentle squeeze before letting go. "I hope your friend is okay."

"He's…having another surgery in the morning," you try to stay informative and neutral but you just can't. You saw him laying in the bed all broken and bruised. It killed you.

Both men move you to the kitchen; one of them getting you a glass of water while the other one rubs your back as you sob into his shoulder. Having someone care about you like they do just unleashes all of your emotions and there's no reining them back.

You rub your eyes and shake your head pulling out of the embrace, "I can't…I shouldn't…He's my ex-husband. I'm in love with Rachel. Why do I care so much?" When that escapes your mouth, you immediately want to take it back. These are Rachel's fathers. Rachel's very protective fathers.

However instead of being angry, their eyes are sympathetic. Eliot adds, "You're not dead inside Quinn. We know the whole story and back-story. He was your first love. You're allowed to care."

That last sentence finds you crumbling into Steve's shoulder again, clinging to his sweater.

It is late and although you haven't eaten your body craves a bed. They both walk you up to Rachel's old room and Eliot turns down the covers while Steve helps you find something to wear to bed. He hands you one of Rachel's sweaters from high school and apologizes that that's all they have in the vicinity of your size, but you need to wear it because it's supposed to get cold tonight. You just nod. You like that idea of wearing it. It smells like Rachel and it reminds you of her warm smile.

They leave you alone, both kissing your head as they walk out the door. You decide to officially adopt them as your dads. Your first one didn't work out so well, but these two are beyond perfect for you.

Once you're changed and in the bed, you curl into a pillow and hold onto it. The sobs take you over again. You can't stop seeing Finn in the hospital bed, the florescent lights illuminating every little deviation from the way he was.

You fall into a fitful sleep and wake with a start, your eyes flying open. Once your breathing has calmed down you realize that someone is in the bed with you, whispering in your ear and stroking your hair. A gentle kiss to your lips and even in the dark you know who it is.

Your voice is scratchy and hoarse, but you ask, "What are you doing here?"

"I'm here for you like I should have been all along," Rachel whispers back, her fingers wiping away the tears you cried in your sleep.

You're half sure this is just a dream or that you're hallucinating, but even if it isn't real, she's here. You hold onto her with everything you have and she rubs your back until you fall asleep again.

When you wake up in the morning, it takes a while for you to remember where you are and why. You groan as all the crying from yesterday and last night inflicts a headache that feels like someone cracked open your skull and is beating your brain with a hammer. You groan again.

Movement next to your forces you to open your eyes. Just as your eyes focus on the woman next to you, her hand slides into your hair. Without saying anything, she reaches behind her and picks up a full glass of water off of the nightstand offering it to you.

You sit up and gratefully drink every last drop. She lifts the glass from your hand and puts it back before resuming stroking your hair. "Do you need anything?" her voice is quiet and soothing.

You shake your head and just look at her. She's not supposed to be here. You tell her that.

She offers you a small smile, "I am supposed to be here."

"But your shows," you say, trying to be the good career supportive girlfriend and not the needy girlfriend that wants to slap you for bringing up the reason she didn't come with you in the first place.

Rachel smiles at you and kisses your forehead. "I explained the situation to my director who talked to the producers and since I won the Tony, they raised the ticket prices and are making substantially more now that they were before, they chartered me a jet. So right after the show last night, I flew down here and this afternoon I'll fly back to do the show and I'll fly back afterwards. Then we have a three-day break which I was going to use to surprise you with a trip to Vail, Colorado, but this is more important."

You look up at her, as her face gets blurry behind your tears. You start crying again.

After you collect yourself, you take a quick shower while Rachel goes downstairs, hopefully not to cook breakfast. After braiding your hair, you look at the clothes you brought with you and they're not near warm enough for the weather outside. You pick through Rachel's closet and pull on one of her heavy argyle sweaters over your long sleeved dark blue shirt, leaving it hanging open. You realize that you actually forgot to pack pants too so you slip on some of her black skinny jeans and a pair of faux leather boots.

When you make your way down stairs and into the kitchen, you find all the Berrys sitting at the kitchen table, drinking coffee and nibbling on toast.

Before they see you Eliot asks Rachel, "So when do you get the actual thing? You better believe that we're coming to see it."

Rachel smiles, "I'll get it in a week. It's coming to our apartment by like a delivery team or something."

"What do they do with the one that they gave you at the show?" Steve asks.

Rachel shrugs.

You step fully into the kitchen and pause by the door, not sure where to go. Rachel gently pats the seat next to her and you move to it, lowering yourself into the chair.

"Good morning Quinn," Eliot smiles brightly.

"Good morning," you do your best to sound okay. You check the clock on the wall, Finn's going into surgery in about two hours so you want to get there as soon as you can.

Rachel notices and says, "You're going to eat here or we can pick something up on the way to the hospital, but you're not sitting vigil by anyone's bedside until you've eaten something. When I called Blaine, he told me you didn't eat anything at all yesterday and I know for a fact you didn't eat anything before you left New York."

You nod. You're not really hungry, but you know you need to eat. You look at the toast on the table, which looks unappetizing, "Can we get something on the way?"

She nods and stands. With a parting goodbye to her dads she sweeps you out the door.

"I know this is the most inappropriate comment and I'll just say it and leave it at that," Rachel says as you two walk into the Lima Bean, "But you look so hot right now."

You look down at yourself and let out a tiny smile. You weren't really thinking about it when you put these clothes on. You shake your head and smile, "Thanks."

After you get your coffee and some food, you walk back into the parking lot. But in the parking lot is a guy with a camera who looks way too familiar.

"Jacob what are you doing?" Rachel looks at the still-bushy haired guy behind the camera.

"Pictures for my blog," he states.

You cross your arms and take an HBIC stance. "Didn't you make like a million dollars or something?"

He nods, his fro swaying, "With my blog. And this is going to get me a lot more hits."

"Jacob," Rachel takes his arm and pulls him away from you. After they whisper for a few seconds, Rachel comes back to you and Jacob just stands there with a huge smile on his face.

"C'mon," Rachel puts her hand on the small of your back. Behind you, you can hear pictures being snapped away.

"What did you tell him?" you ask, sliding into the passenger's seat of your rental car.

Rachel settles in her seat and looks at you, "I told him that he could take a couple pictures of us walking to the car, but then he has to leave us alone for the rest of the time we're here. He's not allowed to put on his blog where we are and in return for all of that, he gets to break the story that we are official."

"When is that?" You ask. You don't really care. You've never really been one for PDA and as long as she's yours behind closed doors, you have no opinion either way.

Rachel shrugs, "Whenever Kathy tells me."

With some food in your stomach and some caffeine in your hand, you walk back into the hospital. You actually brought coffee for everyone. When you show up, Blaine and Kurt are already there and Burt and Carol who never left.

They all thank you for the coffee and you all take to quietly sipping it around Finn's limp body like it's just a large, awkward piece of furniture. This time when you reach for Rachel's hand it's there.

Finn in taken into surgery again and again you, Kurt, and Blaine with the addition of Rachel walk to the cafeteria. This time none of you make a show of pretending to eat. You all just sit at a table looking at each other. It's an unbearably awkward silence and you wish you could think of something to say.

"So, what's it like winning a Tony Award?" Kurt rests his chin in his hand.

Rachel's smile is somewhat subdued. She's showing some respect for the ill by reigning it in. "Well, do you remember the feeling you have the first time you watched The Sound of Music?"

Kurt and Blaine nod in sync.

"It's like that mixed with meeting Patti Lupone and winning Nationals with the first time," she explains, "It was a total surprise. I even sulked around the apartment for a few days after the nominations came out because I didn't get one, right Quinn?" she asks you.

You nod to the boys, "We went through three pints of vegan ice cream."

They both chuckle. Rachel goes on telling them what happened after she won the award and who she met backstage.

"You met five time Tony Award winner Angela Lansbury?" Kurt's mouth drops open.

You watch Rachel and Kurt talk back and forth. You just sort of listen in and Blaine is playing around on his phone. When your eyes are on Blaine, he look from you to his phone and back. Kurt notices you looking at Blaine and Rachel notices Kurt looking at you.

"What going on?" She asks.

Blaine looks up, "Oh I just…did you know about this?" He offers his phone to you and Rachel. You both lean close to each other and look at it. It's the picture Jacob Ben Israel took when you were getting coffee. You read the caption and find that Jacob kept up his end of the deal questioning your relationship with Rachel and not confirming anything or saying where the picture was taken.

"Yeah, we know," Rachel confirms for both of you, handing the phone back, "Jacob was standing outside the Lima Bean when we walked out. I told him that he could take the picture and premiere our confirmation of our relationship if he just took one speculative picture and didn't tell anyone where we are."

"When is the confirmation?" Blaine asks.

You differ to Rachel as usual and she shrugs, "I'm waiting for my publicist to tell me."

"Well," Kurt says looking at you, "As soon as the word gets out that you're officially dating there will be rumors all over the place of you two cheating on each other like Charlie Sheen in Miami on Spring Break."

You feel Rachel's hand on your back and she trails her fingers up and down your spine. She throws you a playful smile, "I think we'll be fine."

You nod and smile back. You know you'll be fine. You've already though about this. If paparazzi follow you through your day they'll think you're cheating on Rachel with Brittany, Santana, Ethan and possibly Jake or any combination of the four. They'll say she's cheating on you with Jake, David, Andrew or any number of her cast mates. You've prepared yourself for this. Of course it was after a late night where you couldn't sleep and stayed up watching TMZ and other shows like that.

When you all decide that you've been sitting long enough to become calm, you return to the room only to find that Finn isn't there. Burt informs you all that a nurse came in to tell you that it would probably be another hour or so because there was an unexpected complication. No, they couldn't tell them what the complication was but Carol has fresh tearstains of her cheeks. It makes you worry. It makes you feel bad for having a normal conversation in the cafeteria while Finn is on an operating table. It makes you feel like a horrible person.

You take off again. To the same place you went yesterday. When you sit down on the wooden bench this time, tears streaming down your face, there's someone sitting next to you.

You shake your head and stare at the cross at the front of the room, "What do you believe in Rachel?" Your voice is low and watery.

She wraps her arms around you, bringing your head down to her shoulder. "I believe in God and love and that Finn will be okay." She kisses your head and you close your eyes. That was a better answer than you were expecting because you were pretty sure as soon as you asked, she would burst into song.

"Do you think if I'd not have-" you start, but Rachel cuts you off.

"Quinn Fabray, I will not have you thinking for a second that you were in any way a cause of this," she whispers quietly because there are other people sitting in the chapel. "Your decisions and choices had nothing to do with what happened in the shop."

"I want him to be okay," you whisper, trying to quietly sniffle.

"I know you do," she rubs your back, "I do too."

After a moment you squeeze tighter onto her, "I'm glad you're here."

"I don't want to be anywhere else," she says into your hair.

You pray again and follow Rachel back to the room. Blaine quietly tells you that Burt ran back to the house to grab some clean clothes for him and Carol. When you look at Carol it's obvious that she's very upset. You're sure she's been yelling. She does that when she's mad.

When you step inside, Kurt makes a move to step in front of you, but it's too late. Carol's eyes land on you. Yesterday she was civil to you. Today she's back to normal or worse. Her son's body is open on an operating table and all the doctors tell her is that there are complications. She needs a target and you're about as good as it gets.

"You," her voice drips with the deadly venom of a cornered mother. Her eyes narrow at you, "How dare you show up here like this? You broke his heart. You left him here for what? The bright lights of New York?" Her voice has a condescending edge, "How long is it going to be before you come crawling back?"

Kurt hasn't moved from between you and Carol. You can feel Rachel start to move between you as well, but you take her hand and pull her back by your side. This is what you were expecting. It stings, but you're going to let her say what she needs to say. She's hurting more that all of you put together.

"Mom, I asked her to come," Kurt adds evenly.

Carol ignores him and steps closer to you, "I bet you cheated on him too." Her eyes flicker to Rachel before bouncing back to you, "Real estate conference? Is that a cover? And you have the audacity to bring your mistress when my son could be dying."

When you're sure she's done, you feel the need to defend yourself. You're not going to go full Quinn Fabray. You're going to be rational and calm. "I never cheated on him. I assure you that is the truth. I'm here because I may not be in love with Finn, but I love him. He's a good friend. We're on good terms. We talked at the wedding and I met his girlfriend. He told me that he's happy for me and I'm happy for him. Have you seen him that happy in the last few years? You know he wasn't."

She shakes her head, "You knowingly made him miserable. He's a good man. How could you do that? Get out!" She keeps yelling at you to get out until Blaine ushers you out. You slide down onto the floor in the hallway, your knees on your chest.

"I'm not leaving," you tell Rachel and Blaine.

"Of course not," Rachel sits down next to you and you wrap your arms around her arm, tears brimming your eyes.

Blaine kneels down in front of you, "Kurt will talk her down and I'll come get you when he does okay? It shouldn't take long. You know she's just upset."

You just nod. Not because you believe it, but because you want him to leave. You need to cry and you need Rachel to comfort you.

He nods and stands up, walking back into the room.

Rachel opens her mouth, but you put your lips on her shoulder and close your eyes. You know what she's going to say. She's going to tell you that Carol is wrong and she's just upset. You know these things. It doesn't make them hurt any less.

"Quinn?" a voice asks. You look up to find Dr. Lopez crouched in front of you. His strong, tan hand is on your shoulder before you even realize it's him. His light blue eyes are as caring and strong as you remember him.

You wipe your eyes and try a smile, "Hey Dr. Lopez."

His kind smile makes you relax a little, "What's wrong?"

"I have a…friend in the OR," you offer, "He's not doing…there are complications."

He looks up and down the hallway and then at his watch. He sits on the other side of you and leans back against the wall. "I'm sure he'll be okay. We have great surgeons here."

You nod, taking little reassurance in that. "Thanks Dr. Lopez."

He straightens out his lab coat, "Well do you need anything? We have a coffee machine in the doctor's lounge that is way better than that slop in the cafeteria. I can get you two some chairs."

"I'm okay, but I know Rachel has a flight to catch soon and she's going to need coffee," you look over at your girlfriend. She has a guilty look on her face and you know she doesn't want to leave you here.

Dr. Lopez stands up and offers his hands to you. He easily pulls you up. "I'll escort you two ladies to the doctor's lounge to get some coffee. You're more than welcome to stay in there and watch TV if you want."

You help Rachel up, "She needs to go so it'll just be the coffee."

"I don't know if you remember me, but I'm Frederick Lopez," he smiles a perfect smile at Rachel, "We met a few times. I remember your last name because it was the only thing Santana ever referred to you as while she was living with me, but I apologize for not remember your first name."

"Rachel," she smiles back at him, "It's good to see you again Dr. Lopez."

After you get Rachel some coffee, you hand her the keys to your rental car. She tells you to call her dads when you're ready to go get some sleep and they'll gladly come and get you. You kiss her in front of the electric doors of the hospital and send her on her way. She tells you that she'll be back tonight and if you're not in her bed at her dads' house, she'll come look for here.

When you go back to Finn's room he's still not there. Carol apologizes to you and you forgive her, but choose to sit as far away from her as possible. Kurt tells you that Blaine left to go see if he could take care of any of the minor repairs at the tire shop. You nod understandingly. It's the only decent repair shop in town and there's never been a shortage of work. You're sure that Kurt made him swear that he wouldn't go anywhere near any hydraulic things until they're checked.

As you sit, Kurt holds your hand as you all just sit in a tense silence. You guess that there's nothing you can do now except wait.


	27. Chapter 27

It's almost five by the time they bring him back. He looks approximately the same, but that's not much because you're sure he couldn't have looked worse before.

You all sit there and listen to the doctor explain things. When Kurt asks when he's going to wake up, the doctor apologetically shrugs, "He'll wake up when his body is ready for him to wake up."

So you, Kurt, and Carol sit in the room, silent. Kurt's phone rings and he steps outside to answer it. When he steps back in he looks at you, "I know you don't want to leave, but Blaine needs help with the shop and if you really don't want to go, I'll go."

You shake your head, "I'll go. I'll bring you back something to eat."

Kurt hugs you, "Thank you so much."

When you get outside, you remember that Rachel took your car so you call your mom to get Eliot's number and then call him asking him to pick you up.

He gladly comes and picks you up. You ask him to drop you off at the tire shop and you can just walk after that. After assuring him that you'll be fine, he goes home.

When you open the door of the shop, you hear laughing. You walk into the front of the shop and find Blaine and an older man laughing. Blaine is wearing one of the spare jumpsuits and has grease stains all over him. The man is older with a thick face and neck with almost no hair left.

"Thanks for coming Quinn," Blaine tells you and moves behind the cash register, "I don't know how to work this thing."

You worked in the shop a few times when Carol and Burt went on vacation or something like that so you use it with relative ease. The man thanks you and Blaine before he leaves.

"Do you need any help?" you ask. You don't really like being here, but you're willing to help.

"Can you tell me which one of those things over there is an intake manifold?" he asks you with a grin. You know this is a test.

"The round one?" you ask. By his laugher you know that you failed.

"Don't worry about it," he says, "I got it. You should go get something to eat or change or something."

"What's wrong with what I'm wearing?" You ask.

He grins, picking up a wrench and leaning over the front of a motor, "Nothing's wrong with it." He pauses to position the wrench, "You look fabulous. I'm just saying, something to make you feel better. Kurt changes more than Mariah at an awards show when he's upset because it makes him feel better."

"I believe that's the first time I've been told I look fabulous by someone with their hands on a car engine," you tease him and add, "I'm going to get another sweater, it's getting colder."

He nods, "Do you know of any heaters in here?"

You walk over to the wall and flip a switch. A few heaters mounted on the wall come on, "Just turn them off if it gets too hot."

He nods and stands up straight, "Thank Quinn."

"I'm going to get food for Kurt, Burt and Carol," you tell him, "Do you want something?"

"I'll have whatever Kurt is having," he pauses, "Scratch that. I'll have what Burt's having." You laugh. "I'd hug you but I don't want to get you dirty," he offers, kissing your cheek.

"Thanks. These are Rachel's and she'd probably kill me," You reply.

You walk to the Berry house and knock on the door. Eliot answers it and immediately hugs you, "Quinn honey you don't have to knock. In fact I'll get you a key made this afternoon."

"Thanks," you smile and follow him inside.

"How's Finn?" he asks, pausing at the stairs where you start parting ways.

You wrap the sweater around you, "He's out of surgery. Now it's just waiting to see if- when he'll wake up."

He gives you a kind smile, "He'll wake up. Also, Rachel threatened me if I didn't force you to eat and although I'm not one with the force I can nag you until you want to pull your hair out as Steve can attest to. What would you like?"

"I'm going to get something for everyone on my way back," you tell him, "Thank you though."

"You're welcome to take my car. Do you need help getting all that food into the hospital?" he asks.

You think about it and nod. If you can't have Rachel, you figure that her father is the next best thing and he is a really great hugger. "Thank you."

You stop by a deli after a call to Kurt and Blaine to see what they want. Blaine tells you he'll meet you back at the hospital so you don't have to go out of your way. You get sandwiches and wraps as well as a variety of chips and water. As promised after Eliot parks his car in the hospital parking lot, he takes one of the paper bags the sandwiches are in and walks inside with you.

You, Kurt, and Blaine are seated on one side of the bed and Carol is on the other. Burt went back to the shop to check on things and look at the bigger work that Blaine couldn't do. Eliot is bustling around the room, picking up trash and straightening things. You look over at the peak of Finn's heart monitor. The steady sound is soothing even though at first the high pitched beeps drove you crazy.

You hear your phone buzz in your purse and pull it out. It's a text from Rachel. _Do you need anything from home before I leave?_

You think it over. You can't really think of anything except: _If you can find one of my heavy sweaters or a coat, that'd be great._

When you get the reply you smile, _Will you be mad if I don't actually look because I like you wearing my sweaters?_

_I won't be mad. Grab some of my boots though._

_Sexy black ones or cute gray ones?_

_You pick._

_Okay baby, need anything else?_

_Can you grab Rocky Horror? It's Finn's favorite._

_Of course. Anything else?_

_You._

_You'll have me physically in a couple hours._

_Yay. Do you need me to pick you up?_

_No. I kept the rental car. It's at the Lima airport. Call me if you need anything else. I love you._

_I love you too. Be safe._

You put your phone away and look up to see Kurt looking expectantly at you. You say, "Rachel's on her way back."

He nods with a small smile, "It's sweet of her to fly all over like this."

You nod, "She gets sweeter than that."

"Do tell," Blaine smiles at you, leaning forward.

"She was going to take me to Vail on her three days off," you tell them. You glance over at Eliot who is smiling as he throws away a sandwich wrapper.

He catches your eyes and chuckles, "Well, where do you think she got it from? It certainly wasn't Steve. He's a great husband and father but when it comes to romance…oy vey "

You all chuckle together and you smile to him, "I guess I should be thanking you then."

"You're very welcome," he gives you a wink and resumes his cleaning.

After a few hours and a check in by Dr. Lopez, Eliot goes back to the house to go to bed. It's getting really late and exhaustion is creeps up on you, slowly blanketing you. You yawn and rest your head on the closest shoulder to you. Blaine puts his arm around you and pats your shoulder, "Why don't you go home and get some sleep?"

You shake your head. You have a stupid hope that maybe he'll wake up as Rachel walks in. He'll smile and you'll all watch The Rocky Horror Picture Show before they discharge him and you and Rachel go home and spend her remaining days off in her bed.

But that's your fantasy world. You sigh and sit up, "I'll be fine. I'm at least going to wait until Rachel gets here."

Blaine nods and looks over at Kurt who is curled up in his chair almost asleep. "Babe do you want to go?"

Kurt sits up and blinks a few time, "No I'm fine." He looks at his watch and runs a hand through his hair, "It's only midnight."

"Not in our time zone," Blaine offers with a kiss to Kurt's cheek. He glances across the room where Carol and Burt are asleep, leaning on each other.

Kurt shakes his head again, "No I'm really fine. See? I'm up all perky and….not really perky, but I'm up."

You set your head back onto Blaine's shoulder and take a deep, sleepy breath. "I need some coffee." He scoots his chair closer to you so that you're more comfortable.

"Now's the part where you tell me that I'm the best girlfriend ever for knowing exactly what you want," a cup of coffee appears in front of you. Attached to the coffee cup are the tan fingers that connect to a delicate hand, that are at the end of the faux wool coat covered arm of Rachel.

You don't pick your head up from Blaine's shoulder, but take the coffee. You moan at the smell of the coffee which immediately sends a tiny jolt of energy through you. It's enough to get you to sit up straight so you take a sip and say, "You really are the best girlfriend ever. Thank you."

She smiles at you before handing Kurt and Blaine one as well. She has two left over and sets them on the meal try next to Finn's bed. "I guess Burt and Carol aren't going to need though."

"Believe me, those coffees will be gone," Kurt sips his coffee, "Thanks Rachel."

"This is great," Blaine says standing and offering Rachel his chair.

She shakes her head, "I've been restlessly sitting on a plane for a while. It's nice to stretch my legs." She looks back at you before saying, "Oh, I almost forgot." She reaches into her gigantic-compared-to-her-small-frame purse and pulls out your copy of Rocky Horror.

"Finn's favorite," you hear Kurt say.

You nod, "I was thinking that when he wakes up the doctors will want him to stay for a while so this might give him something to do for a little bit." You look down at the movie.

"Is it good?" Blaine asks, "I've never seen it."

Audible gasps come from Rachel and Kurt. You just smile and shake your head. Rachel looks past Blaine to Kurt as she removes her coat, "What kind of boyfriend are you?"

"A terrible one I've come to find out," Kurt stands from his seat and takes the movie out of your hands. As he walks over to the television, he adds, "Blaine Anderson, I don't think I know you anymore."

After he puts the move into the built in DVD player and sits back in his seat, Blaine asks, "We're not going to wake them up are we?" He gestures to Burt and Carol.

Kurt shakes his head, "They sleep like logs." When the menu comes up, he presses play.

You pull Rachel down into your lap. She curls into you, but whispers, "I was fine standing."

"I want you here," you close your eyes and rest your chin on her upper arm. You like the feel of her weight on your. It's warm and it makes you feel safe.

She brushes your hair way from your face and kisses your forehead, "Let me know if you get uncomfortable."

"Okay," you reply and you both turn to watch the movie. Her hair smells like she just took a shower and you can tell by the color of her cheeks that it's colder outside than it was earlier. You take her hands and find that they're still cool to the touch. You warm them up one at the time by rubbing them all over without taking your eyes off of the screen.

Apparently Rachel's done with the hand warming because she threads your fingers together. Some time into the movie she asks, "Do you know what happened to your Magenta costume?"

"I gave it to Santana," you answer. Santana told you it was for Brittany because her Magenta costume got ripped. You asked why Brittany wanted to wear it and Santana laughed and told you that Brittany wasn't the one that was going to wear it.

Rachel raises an eyebrow and tilts her head toward you.

"You don't want to know," you smile at her a kiss her before looking back at the movie. Out of the corner of your eye you can tell that she figured out why you gave it to Santana, but instead of a look of shock, it's a pout.

Rachel crosses her arms and whispers to herself. You don't get all of what she said, but you distinctly heard the phrase, "new one."

You shake your head and glance over at Blaine and Kurt who are both completely engrossed in the movie. Blaine is completely rapt, mouth slightly open as Tim Curry parades around the screen in garters and lingerie.

As you turn back to the TV, you spot another pair of eyes watching the movie. The lips belonging to the eyes are mouthing the words as Frank-n-furter talks to Janet.

"Oh my god," you say out loud before you realize it's come out of your mouth. The words make Rachel follow your eyes and a smile spreads across her face, "You're awake."

Kurt and Blaine immediately abandon watching the movie. When he sees what's going on, Kurt practically launches himself on Finn before stopping mid-air. He settles for holding Finn's hand, "You're awake."

Finn nods as you all move to his bedside, "Can you go back a few scenes? I missed my favorite part."

Kurt fumbles with the remote trying to move it back, "Which scene?"

"Right after their car breaks down," you answer for him. You look down at him, "It's not nice to not tell us when you wake up from a coma."

His smile is the same charming smile he had before when he says, "Sorry. It's my favorite movie though."

You shake your head and feel a rush of relief.

"I'll go get the nurse," Blaine states as Kurt moves to the other side of the room to try to rouse their parents.

"What are you doing here?" Finn asks you, looking around the room.

"I'm here because a big metal thing fell on you and almost crushed you," you tell him. You can feel your hands shaking with excitement. He's okay.

He looks down at his body and lifts the sheet covering him, "I probably don't want to see that yet do I?" He runs his hand over the bandages on his chest.

You shake your head, "Probably not. I haven't seen them, but it can't really look that good."

He takes a deep breath and winces, "I'm okay though, right? Everything…working?"

You bite your bottom lip before answering, "I don't know." You know that he'd be heartbroken if his legs didn't work anymore or a foot or something. You haven't heard anything about that though.

Before he can ask another question, Carol is awake and rushing to his side.

You, Rachel, Blaine and Kurt stand outside while a doctor and nurse check on Finn. You stand with your back to the wall next to the door and the other three stand around you so you're in a square.

"That must be some movie to wake guys up from comas," Blaine offers, trying to lighten the mood.

Kurt smiles and looks at you, "Way to go Quinn. You woke up your ex-husband with a movie about an evil scientist drag queen."

The group laughs at this and you look from Blaine to Kurt to Rachel. She's looking lovingly at you and your insides completely melt. She takes your hand, swinging them between you.

When you're all called back inside by Burt and Carol, you find out that Finn is okay. His body is fully functioning and his stitches look okay. At the earliest they'll discharge him the day after tomorrow. Finn announces that he's hungry and within two minutes Blaine and Kurt are running out to get him something. Burt and Carol are on their phones assuring their relatives that Finn's okay and Rachel stepped out to take a call from her manager.

"You didn't have to come," Finn says, looking away from the movie that you were both watching.

You look at him from your chair, "Yeah I did." You let out an assuring smile.

He seems to be thinking it over before he adds, "I would have come too. So if you get like hit by a cab or mugged or something, you know I'll come to New York."

You nod. You have no doubt that he would. You put your hand on top of his, "How do you feel?"

"High," he answers with a crooked smile, "These have me on a really awesome painkiller."

You roll your eyes playfully. You sarcastically add, "Great." Your eyes flicker to Carol who is on the phone smiling and crying before bouncing back to Finn, "Do you need me to go do anything to the house? Clean or make you some food or something?"

He shakes his head, "No. It's fine. The house is all taken care of. Puck helped do a few things before he moved."

"He moved?" You ask, narrowing your eyes. You figured you would have heard about that.

Finn nods, "He came over a few days after the wedding and we sat on the couch watching a hockey game. At halftime he told me that he was moving to Chicago."

"To be with Lauren?" you ask, surprised and happy.

"Yeah," Finn turns his hand over to hold yours. You keep forgetting how much bigger he is than you. His hand engulfs yours, but you find a contentment in it. It's warm and strong both indicators that he is in fact okay.

"So why are you still in Lima?" you ask him.

He shrugs, "I don't know. Moving out is kinda…scary."

"It's terrifying," you tell him with a knowing smile, "But after a few days and you see that it's not really all that bad, you get to love where you are."

"I was actually thinking about moving to Chicago," he adds, "Puck said he could get me a job with him. It could be fun right?"

"Of course," you tell him, "If not, you can always come back to Lima. It's not like there's going to be a housing price spike anytime soon."

A rustling behind you alerts you that Rachel is back in the room and digging in her purse. When the digging stops, she appears next to you. You looks thoughtful and not really all that happy. She actually looks kind of worried as illustrated by her chewing on her bottom lip. When she sees you looking, she stops and forces a smile. She places your hand on your shoulder and looks at Finn, "How do you feel?"

"I feel good. Maybe a little sore. But I haven't really tried to move yet. I have a feeling that's going to be painful," he explains. His hand lets go of yours and slowly moves away. You look back up at Rachel and identify something akin to possessiveness in her eyes as she converses with Finn. Then you let back at him with his passiveness, breaking all contact with you.

You look at Rachel and wait for her to look back. When she does, you questioningly raise an eyebrow. She immediately blushes and looks away. You grin like a fool and kiss her hand that's on your shoulder. She's cute when she's jealous.

After about an hour and one large hamburger for Finn, everyone is sitting around, getting tired. Finn is already asleep and you know that Kurt, Blaine, Burt, and Carol are close.

Burt tells you, Rachel, Kurt and Blaine to go home and get some rest. They'll call you if anything changes or if they decide to discharge Finn early.

Kurt and Blaine agree and leave with you and Rachel. Once in the rental car you feel exhaustion completely course through you.

"Are you okay?" Rachel asks softly, leaning over and kissing your cheek.

You nod and lean into her, "I just want to go to bed."

"That can be arranged," she puts the key in the ignition and begins the short drive to her dads' house.

When she shuts the car down, Rachel pauses before opening her door, "I'm sorry."

"For claiming me in front of Finn?" you ask with a tired smile, knowing that you're right. She confirms that with a small, shameful nod. You lull your head toward her, "Will it help to remind you that I've only been in love with one person in my entire life?"

She shakes her head, "I'm afraid I have a fairly wide jealous streak. I'm working on it, but…it may take a while."

"It's okay," you lean over the armrest and kiss her, "I'm not going anywhere."

You quietly move into her bedroom and find her bags next to the door. You see a stack of paper on the bed as you fall down next to it. She lingers at her bags digging some clothes out. You feel like you should change, but you only seem to barely scrape up enough energy to sit up.

"What are these?" you ask Rachel, looking at the four or five large bound stacks of paper.

"They're scripts," she states. She looks awfully nervous to you and you can't figure out why. She sets the clothes on the dresser by the door.

You furrow your eyebrows and take off the sticky note on top that has your name on them, "You want me to read them for you?"

"Sorta," she leans back on her desk and looks at you.

You set the scripts on the bed next to you and cross your arms, "Rachel what's going on?"

"You have to promise not to be mad," Rachel glances at the ground and then back up at you with her head bowed.

You quirk an eyebrow, "Why would I be mad?"

"Just promise," she swallows and stays at her desk.

You nod to noncommittally agree. You've never had really great control of your temper so you don't want to promise anything.

"Because of your artistic promise and the media attention you are starting to receive…" she pauses and you know what she's about to say. You don't know if you're mad or amused or something else all together. "My agent is now your agent too." She says slowly enunciating every word carefully. Then the floodgates open and she launches into a full on, full speed ahead speech, "You have so much potential Quinn and I don't want you to waste it. I didn't tell him to focus on any kind of anything so there're these scripts and some song demos, even an offer for a modeling contract. You're having this career crisis and I've been trying to be supportive and everything, but I'm a…let's say aggressively supportive person. I want to help you. Because you're repressed, less so than before, but still I know there're things you're holding back. This may help you there too. Acting is very cathartic as is singing. I'm not sure about modeling, but it's a start as well. I just…want you to be happy. So can you please interrupt me now? Kiss me or yell at me, but stop me from talking. Because if you don't you know that I can go on and on when I'm nervous Quinn. Please?"

You let out a smirk that turns into a giggle that morphs into a fully belly laugh. You fall back onto the bed and curl up on your side as the laughter takes you over. When you wipe the tears from your eyes and finally gain control of yourself, she's looking at you like she's lost your mind.

When you raise your eyebrows at her, she let's out a small smile, "I broke you didn't I?"

"C'mere," You hold your arms open, sitting up all the way.

She walks over to you and allows you to pull her into your lap. She's sitting sideways and looking at her hands folded in her lap, "I was scared that I overstepped a line this time."

You hold her around the waist and set your chin on her shoulder, "I understand why you did what you did. I appreciate it."

"Are you going to do anything with it?" Rachel asks quietly, her eyes finally looking into yours, "Do you want me to call our agent and tell him that you're not interested?"

You think about it for a moment, but your mind is too crowded and too tired at the moment, "Can I sleep on it?"

"Of course," her whole face lights up and you can't help, but smile back at her. She kisses you softly, cupping your face.

When you're through with the kiss and press your forehead to her shoulder, "I don't know if I can get up to change or anything."

"You don't have to," she says, "I'll do it for you."

She lays you back down and tenderly takes off your jeans, sweater and shirt. Then she turns down the bed and tucks you in before changing herself and getting into the bed next to you.

You curl into her and let her hug you to her, holding you protectively against her chest. Sleep easily takes you over, Rachel trailing not far behind you.


	28. Chapter 28

"What are you going to do on your days off now that Finn's better?" you hear from the kitchen as you're making your way there. You don't understand how you're always the last person awake in this house.

"Well," you hear Rachel take a breath before continuing, "I'm going to stay here with her until she's ready to leave. I'm not sure that just because he's awake will mean that she wants to leave. But if she does want to go we could go to a spa or down to Boston for a few days. Or we could just stay home."

"What happened to Vail?" Eliot asks.

You step into the kitchen behind Rachel who doesn't see you as she answers, "When Quinn told me that she was going to be here, I gave the cabin and the plane tickets to Jake and his girlfriend." She must have seen her dads' eyes land on you because she turns around and smiles at you, giving you a sweet peck on the lips, "Hey sleepyhead."

You smile at her and nervously glance at her dads. This is the first affection you two have shared in front of them and you're still scared that Steve will tackle you the second you try to hold Rachel's hand. When Eliot smiles at you and Steve turns back to his newspaper, you let out a tiny sigh a relief.

"Do you wanna go to the hospital?" Rachel asks, pulling her oversized sweatshirt tighter to her. When you think about it, it's really cold in here.

You rub your arms and nod, "Yeah, after a shower and I get some warmer clothes." You glance out the window, "Did a cold front come through or something?"

"This morning about six," Eliot says sitting his coffee, "The heater hasn't had time to kick in yet. Rachel's wearing my old sweatshirt. I'm sure I have another one you can wear."

You shake your head with a grateful smile, "Thank you, but I'm just going to shower to warm up and then find something to wear."

"How about some breakfast?" he asks, "I can have something made by the time you're ready to leave."

"Oh," Rachel grins, "I can make oatmeal."

You feel both of the male sets of eyes on you. You remember them telling you to set Rachel straight with the oatmeal, but she just gets so excited. You've been dealing with stomachaches until the afternoon because you don't want to upset her. But now it seems you have to tell her.

You lick your lips and say, "Rach, I have something to tell you that you may not like to hear. C'mon and we'll talk while you pick out something for me to wear."

After you tell her, she's sitting on her bed looking at you. She doesn't look too disappointed. She just looks shocked.

"So you've been eating terrible oatmeal just to make me happy?" she asks, her legs crossed as she sits in the middle of the bed. "You became physically ill because I got excited?"

You nod and peel off your tank top that you wore to bed. "I know it sounds kinda crazy, but…you got _really_ excited."

"Quinn, you don't have to do things like that to make me happy," she tilts her head and watches you shimmy out of your pants.

"I know," you look around for a robe or something because your bra and panties keep absolutely nothing on your body warm. However your eyes land on the stack of scripts on the nightstand. You quickly look away hoping that Rachel won't remind you that you promised her a decision this morning because you don't have one. "I just…" you look back at her, "Sometimes you get all upset that I cook a lot and you don't. Oatmeal was your thing."

"Well," she bites her lip thoughtfully and all thoughts of a shower are about to be abandoned to jump her on the bed because she looks so adorable. However she starts speaking again, "I am going to go downstairs right now and have my dad teach me how to make the best oatmeal you have ever had in your entire life Ms. Fabray."

You quirk an eyebrow and your reply is squashed by her lips. She runs her hands up and down your stomach and sides as she kisses you deeply. "You're freezing."

You just moan in a reply. You can't really think when her hands are setting your freezing body on fire. As her hand moves down to the small of your back and down over your ass, you gasp into her mouth and she pulls away with a giggle. She gives you a wink. "If my dads weren't here…" she trails off ominously. With that, she gives your ass a firm squeeze before walking out of her room.

You let out a small growl of frustration before stalking to the bathroom for your (probably cold) shower.

When you're finished and dressed in some of Rachel's less tragically unfashionable high school clothes, you find her with her dad in the kitchen. Steve already left for work so you're left with Rachel and Eliot. They do make you the best oatmeal you've ever eaten and that coupled with some coffee puts you in a great mood.

Eliot leaves the same time you and Rachel do to go to work, so he kisses you both on the head and tells you to have a great day. You take over driving today which gives you a chance to think for a while as Rachel hums along to the song on the radio.

When the song is over you pull to a stop at a stop sign and look at her. You find her smiling back at you. "You've been awesome through all of this. You've been supportive and only marginally jealous. Most people wouldn't like for their girlfriend to be at her ex-husband's beside."

"He's a good guy and I used to date him too. As far as the jealousy thing, if I'm perfectly honest Brittany and Ethan had to talk me down a few times. I almost had my... _understudy_ take my place last night," she makes a face when she says 'understudy' which makes you chuckle. She flashes a grin before continuing; "Brittany took my phone and held it above her head so that I couldn't call you and demand that you come home immediately. You know I have jealousy issues as an only child and I swear I'm working on it. That's what makes me nervous about this whole coming out thing. I'm not worried about coming out. I'm worried about what the tabloid and gossip blogs are going to say. I don't want to see something and react in a highly irrational, which is normal for me, or malicious way toward you that I'd definitely regret."  
You smile at her and nod. You know that you'll have a minor heart attack, but you're sure you'll do fine afterwards. A couple hours afterwards. "How about this? I give you permission to ask me about anything that's written, no matter how ridiculous and all tell you that I love you and only you and we'll have a glass of wine and laugh about it."

She sits quietly in her chair and seems to think about it for a minute before nodding, "Same with me. Plus, you get to call me out when I get jealous because I know I do and I can see myself acting on it, but sometimes it comes out before I can stop it."

You nod when a car behind you honks. You realize that you're still sitting there so you take off again. "Agreed."

"I love you Quinn," she says while you drive and a smile immediately spreads across your face.

You glance at her, "I love you too." You love it when she says that. You don't fool yourself into think that she's already in love with you yet. You like that think that she's on the way down though.

You know there's a difference between loving someone and being in love. You love your friends and your family. Rachel loves you. You love her as well but you're also in love with her. Loving your friends and family means that you take care of them. Being in love means that you'll do something completely insane like committing the rest of your existence to being with one person and one person only. Being in love is unbridled passion and an inability to keep yours from them. You know that Rachel loves you. You know that her love is deep but you don't think she's in love with you. Not yet or if she is she hasn't realized it yet. But you can feel it. She's close and when she gets to that point where she trusts you completely, it will be explosive.  
When you get to the hospital everyone seems happy to see you both. Finn is smiling. Burt is smiling. Kurt and Blaine are beaming. Carol is even smiling. The whole hospital room looks less depressing and a lot livelier.

Rachel hands Finn the flowers she picked up in the gift shop downstairs and tells him that she's glad he's better.

You all play cards together until a nurse comes in to tell Finn that the doctor is on the way to see if he can be discharged. Everyone is crossing theirs fingers as they leave the room for the examination. While you're talking to Kurt and Blaine about what they're looking for in an apartment in New York you feel a tap on your shoulder.

You turn to find Dr. Lopez smiling at you. "I'm so sorry to interrupt, but I have to get down to the ER. I'm also sorry to ask a favor of you like this, but as a father I'm getting worried. Santana's mother and I as well as the Pierces haven't been able to get a hold of our girls. I know it may be premature to panic, but it's still New York City and we're still their parents and they're still them which means that sometimes they do things without thinking it through. Regardless, if you hear from either one of them would you please let me or Isabelle or the Pierces know?"

"Of course," you nod, remembering for the first time that you haven't spoken to Brittany or Santana since you got to Lima. "I'm sure they just jumped into a fountain or something with their clothes on and their phones in their pockets."

He smiles at that and nods, "I'm sure you're right, but when you're Santana's parents…" he breaks off laughing.

"I can only imagine," you give him a hug before he runs off to the ER.

When you turn back to the group, you ask Rachel when the last time she talked to them was. She tells you that she talked to Brittany early yesterday, but she got a call and ran off. You're sure they're fine and having some wild marathon sexcapade where they can't hear their phones.

Finn is discharged a few hours later and you and Rachel are at your former house, making him comfortable. Carol keeps asking if he's sure that he doesn't want to stay with her and Burt while he's recovering. Kurt is looking around the house to keep Finn occupied while he's on bed rest. Rachel is just standing next to Blaine, both looking overwhelmed by the flurry of movement around the house. You've started making Finn food for a week so that he has something to eat and Burt is walking around the house with a hammer and screwdriver, fixing everything that he decides needs to be fixed.

It feels weird standing in the kitchen again. You look out the window as you rinse off a spoon that you used to stir the spaghetti sauce in the sink. This is the same window that you used to stare out and grow more bitter as they days went by. You'd look at your car and your yard and your neighbors and hate all of it. Luckily, the one eighty your life has taken helps you remember that you've got everything you've ever wanted. You have friends. You live somewhere you love and with someone you're completely head over heels for and you have career options.

Oh crap, speaking of career options…you have yet to make a choice. You had a dream last night about of the careers Rachel offered to you and it seems viable. You just need to make hard decision that this is the right choice. Then the real work begins.

You think it over as you keep cooking and almost an hour goes by without you noticing. When you're all done with everything, you put it all in the plastic containers that haven't moved since you did and place them in the refrigerator.

Then you walk into Finn's bedroom to find something you definitely weren't expecting. Rachel is sitting next to Finn on the bed and their both laughing. He says something that you don't catch and she laughs hard. When she puts her hand on his arm, you feel the green-eyed monster starting its climb up your spine. But a few breaths later, you calm down. Ex-husband and current girlfriend sitting on a bed laughing is not something to get worked up about. Especially so soon after your talk with Rachel in the car.

Rachel finally sees you standing in the doorway and after looking you over for a second retracts her hand from Finn. She smiles at you, amused and flattered and you just blush at being read so easily.

You clear your throat and turn to Finn, "Everything is made and in the refrigerator. Just warm it up and it'll be ready."

"You really didn't have to do that," he says.

You nod, "I know, but if we would have let Rachel do it, you'd be eating oatmeal for the next few weeks."

"Hey," she points at you and then turns to defend herself to Finn, "The best oatmeal you've ever had in your life."

He laughs and Rachel beckons you over to the bed. You pause before sitting on it, knowing that the last time you did, you were married to Finn.

After talking for about an hour, Finn falls asleep and you and Rachel join the Hummels and Blaine in the living room.

"I think we've done all we can do here," Kurt looks around, "I think we're going to book a flight home to pack."

"Pack for what?" Burt asks.

"We're moving to New York," he grins and shoots a look your way. You give him a hug and assure him that as soon as you get back you'll have some listing for him to look through.

"What do you want to do?" Rachel asks you as you walk Blaine and Kurt out.

You've already said your goodbyes to Finn and he kept telling you that he was fine and to go home. So you tell Rachel just that. Vail may be out of the question, but you can still have Rachel to yourself for two more days. You plan to lock the apartment door and turn off your phones.

Her smile at the idea is radiant. She makes a few calls and you both head back to her dads' house to gather the few things you brought. As you're packing your things you see her pick up the scripts, contracts and CDs. She glances over her shoulder at you and catches you watching her.

She gives you a kind understanding smile, "Don't worry. I won't ask you about it if you're not ready."

"Thanks," you smile back and walk over to her, "But I've already decided that I'm going to try my hand at."

Her eyes light up and she turns to you, "Which one?" She puts the CD on the bed next to the stack of scripts and the modeling contract. Her eyes dart between the contract, scripts and the demos. You can see that she's simply vibrating with anticipation.

You walk up behind her and rest your chin on her shoulder before pointing at the start of your new career.

"Perfect," she leans back into you with a pleased sigh, "Absolutely perfect."

After stopping by each other her dads work to tell them goodbye, you and Rachel board a private jet back to New York. Had you waited even a couple more hours, you would have had to fly commercially because the jet wasn't meant to take Rachel back to New York unless she stayed another three days.

You're sure you look like a little kid, looking around and taking everything in, but you've never been on one before. After you take off, Rachel pulls you out of your seat and into her lap. She holds you, kissing your cheek and neck. Her nose brushes against your neck as she nuzzles into you.

"You're in a good mood," you mention, closing your eyes to enjoy the simple affection.

"We didn't get to enjoy the new morning afterglow of our first time," she says huskily into your ear, "I plan on making up for that the second we get home."

Goosebumps travel drown your arms and your mouth becomes dry, all the moisture in your body centralizing in one very special place. You cannot wait to get home.

It doesn't take long for you to land, mostly because you were busy making out with Rachel the entire flight. Rachel has a car waiting so you take off for your apartment immediately. One the way you call Santana who doesn't answer. Then you call Brittany and get the same result. You're starting to see why Dr. Lopez was worried.

But when you look over at Rachel you forget all of that. She looks nervously at you with her phone pressed to her ear. "Uh huh…I understand….I'm sure…okay….you'll have to ask her….okay…." She pulls the phone away from her ear and offers it to you, "It's Kathy. She's not…happy. Someone sort of made a webpage dedicated to you and put a lot of things about you on there. Things that not a whole lot of people know. Kathy's going to want to know who did it. I'm sorry Quinn."

You just take the phone and listen to Kathy explain that you have to do an interview now to explain your past behavior before going on to name some things that you know she knew about and now apparently the whole world knows about it. Every sordid event of your past has been put in one easy to access place on the internet.

After you talk to Kathy, you call Kurt and ask him if he's seen it. He tells you he hasn't, but immediately looks it up on Blaine's phone. When he says 'uh oh' you know it's bad. "I'm calling a glee meeting," he says, "As soon as you get home, get on Skype."

So you do as you're told. Rachel has some other phone calls to make so she closes the door to her room and you sit on your bed with your laptop on the bed in front of you.

You see all the faces of your former glee-mates dotted across your screen. You're just waiting on Mercedes. They're all talking amongst themselves holding conversations just like you all never graduated and parted ways. Santana, who you're surprised to see, is sitting in a study room at Columbia, chatting with Kurt and Blaine who look like their home and Brittany, who's in her theatre. Finn you can tell is in the bedroom of his house, which is where you left him and Puck, Lauren, Mike, Artie, and Tina all look like they're in their respective homes. It's a lot easier to fit them all on your screen since Kurt and Blaine, Artie and Tina, and Puck and Lauren are sharing screens.

"Hey get your ass back here," Lauren calls to off camera and after a few minutes, Puck sits down next to her and kisses her cheek.

You lean forward and finally a button starts flashing. You click on it and Mercedes' face joins the bunch. She runs a hand through her hair, "Sorry about that guys. Hair problem. What's up?"

"Yeah you have like twenty minutes because the game starts soon," Puck says leaning forward.

You take a deep breath, "I know that all you guys know about me and Rachel and you all know us well enough to know that we are together. My publicist called me this morning and told me that someone has sent out my complete, embarrassing bio. I know you guys will be honest with me and I'm sure none of you did it, but have you talked to anyone or told them like…my life story."

You just get a bunch of shaking heads.

"What's the big deal?" Santana asks as she eats a potato chip, "I mean doesn't it just says Quinn Fabray born in shithole Lima, June 31st 1906? Bullshit like that."

"We read it," Kurt adds, "It's not just that. It's babygate, parents' split, her whole bully façade sophomore and junior year as well as a few pictures of glee club practice. It had to have been someone who knew her well."

You sigh. Someone who knew you well spreading rumors about you isn't going to make you seem less of a monster. You don't like who you were in high school and if you could you'd take it back in a heartbeat.

"I have some pictures of glee on my Facebook," Tina adds with a shrug, "Maybe it wasn't one person. Maybe it was a bunch of people with little stories that someone put together."

"Hold up," Santana leans forward to look into her screen better, "I just saw Sam Evans."

"Where?" you ask, looking all over the screen.

Santana is wearing a cocky smirk, "Ms. Jones, please explain to the group why Sam just walked out of the hallway behind you in nothing but a towel and his glorious abs."

"Glorious?" you ask, glancing at Brittany's space to see if she has anything to say to that. She doesn't. The background of her square is spinning around because she's apparently holding her phone so it can see her face, but she's dancing.

"Sam," Mercedes calls over her shoulder, "Santana saw you."

Sam walks over to the screen in cargo shorts and no shirt. He smiles into the camera, "Hey guys."

"Didn't you two get together and break up like three times?" Mike asks.

Sam just smiles while Mercedes tries to explain, "Well we met up at the wedding and got to talking. Sam's in town for a show that he's playing."

"Fourth time is the charm right?" he winks at the camera and walks off, returning with a chair to sit next to Mercedes.

"I've been elbow deep in a cadaver all day so could we speed this along," Santana says, "I still have to close the corpse up before I take a shower."

"Ew Santana are you in the room with the….body?" Artie wrinkles his nose.

"Oh yeah totally," Santana sarcastically retorts, "I have lunch with cadavers all the time."

"Santana be nice," Brittany orders, her background finally stationary, and Santana shuts up, but rolls her eyes.

"Okay so long story short, none of us told your story Q," Puck says, "Sorry."

"Not to like diss Rachel or anything because we're friends, but it could have been her," Finn offers, "You know how she likes to talk and sometimes she says more than she means to."

You nod. It's not like that thought never crossed your mind.

A baby starts crying and Artie disappears off screen. He returns with a little baby and shows the little girl to the camera. "Hey guys, meet Riley Alexa Abrams."

A round of awws comes from everyone, including you. Your eyes bounce around the screen at all of your friends, admiring the newest gleek generation.

"It's so cute," Brittany coos at the screen and grins, "Maybe we could-"

"Britt!" Santana says, narrowing her eyes at the screen, "We talked about this last night."

Brittany looks a little disappointed and the baby starts crying.

"Way to go Lopez," Puck says, "You made the baby cry."

"If your girlfriend wasn't there to protect you, I'd fly down there and kick your a-…butt," Santana threatens him, but you all know she's all bark and no bite unless you mess with Brittany.

"She's just hungry," Tina says, taking the baby from Artie and walking off screen.

"Oh before everyone goes," Brittany says, "The invitations haven't been sent out yet, but our wedding is in a month. If you guys could come that'd be awesome."

Everyone promised to make it and everyone said goodbye agreeing that you all needed to video chat as a group more often.

Brittany, Santana and Finn were the last one's on the screen. "Hey Q," Brittany says, "Can me and San come over later tonight? We need to talk to you."

"Sure," you nod. You were planning on lounging around with Rachel. "Where have you two been? San, your dad is looking for you."

"We'll explain when we come over," Santana says.

"Okay bye," Brittany adds and she and Santana sign off at the same time.

You focus on Finn with a sigh, "How are you feeling?"

"Great," he says, "My mom is at the shop going over the books and I'm going to watch the game with Burt. I told him that I was thinking about moving. He told me that he'll support me no matter what I do. I don't know about Chicago."

"You know what?" you ask, "I decided that I was going to move to New York for two weeks and if I didn't like it here, I'd go somewhere else. Maybe you can do that. Try out Chicago for a few weeks. If you love it stay, if you don't, there are hundreds of other cities to live in."

"Thanks Quinn," he grins into the screen, "You're my favorite ex-wife."

You laugh heartily, "You're my favorite ex-husband too."

"Talk to you later," he states and turns off his web cam.

When you close the laptop, you see Rachel standing in the doorway of your room. She looks you over and quietly asks, "Are you okay?"

You nod and smile, "I'm fine."

"Are you sure?" she asks, making her way to your bed.

"Of course," you lay back on the stack of pillows behind you, "Because everyone would have found out eventually and now they know." You let out a sigh. You're not completely believing what you say, but if it keeps Rachel from worrying, it's okay.

"Oh well…okay," Rachel crawled onto the bed next to you. She lays on her side next to you and smiles hopefully at you, "Kathy's setting up your interview right now. She said it'll probably be in a week or so."

You look at her and bite the inside of your cheek, "Okay."

"This could be really great Quinn," Rachel assures you, kissing your cheek, "You could help a lot of young people who went through the same things you went through."

You close your eyes and bury your face in her neck, "I don't know if I'm ready to be a role model." It's a scary thought thinking that anyone looks up to you.

"It's okay," she strokes your head, "Let's not think about that right now. I have a better activity."

You grin, hoping that she's thinking what you're thinking.

Ten minutes later you know she wasn't thinking what you were thinking. You're both standing in your living room, scripts in hand, facing each other. She's been trying to get you in the proper place to act out a scene, but you just can't. "I can't do this. I don't act. It was a dumb idea."

"Hey. Look at me," she waits for you to look at her before going on, "You were born to do this. You need to do this. You have so many unresolved issues you're going to be winning Oscars and Tonys in no time."

"Gee thanks," you drone, dropping the script to your side.

"You know what I mean."

"This scene though," you hold it up, hopeless and defeated, "I have to be angry. I've got crying down but angry? I try so hard to not be angry all the time."

"On the stage it's okay to let it out," she takes your hand, "It's a place where you have to let it out. You're wound so tight and on stage is where you're going to unwind."

You nod, "Okay. So angry..." You scan through your memories and find that yes you do have a lot of anger. You have a lot of memories to bring it up. You clench your jaw feeling the emotion threaten to overthrow your consciousness.

A small, whispered, "wow," pulls you out of it and when you look at her you feel infinitely calmer.

"What?" you ask, wetting your dry lips.

"That was amazing," Rachel stares at you in wonder, her eyes wide. "The transformation... It was... Astounding." she let's out a warm smile, "If we could have gotten you into theatre in high school, we may have been able to save some of my favorite sweaters." that hurts you a little. You'll eternally feel bad for what you did to her then even if the whole world didn't know now.

Her grin grows wider, "Oh look that one is guilt." she kisses you and slides her arms around your waist, "Although there is no reason to feel guilty anymore. Quinn you are going to be an amazing, amazing actress."

You sit on the couch and run a hand through your hair, "Can we…take a break? It's had a long week and a really long day and I just…"

She sits down next to you and leans into your side, holding you around the waist, "I understand." She plants a sweet kiss on your neck, "We can relax now, but tomorrow it's back to work. Your audition for this play is Wednesday."

"Wednesday, as in two days from now?" you ask wide-eyed. She shoot off of the couch, "Why didn't you tell me sooner? How did you know I'd even want to try acting?" You start pacing in front of the couch.

"Quinn," she stands up and takes your arm, stopping your forward progress. When you look at her, you close your eyes because you can't be mad at her when you're looking at her. "I know it's sudden, but you'd do amazing. Let's not think about it tonight. Let's order in and watch a movie, but miss the end because we're making out okay?"

You drop your head, all your anger gone. How did you ever think you could stay angry with her? You sigh, "Alright, but I would like a complete calendar of auditions I'm supposed to go to and interviews and things like that because I'm completely lost right now. It's too much."

"I understand," she sits down on the couch and pulls you into her lap, "That is why as soon as Jake and his girlfriend get back from Vail, you now have a personal assistant."

"There's no way that Jake could possible handle you _and_ me," you say, surprised that you're not objecting to actually having an assistant. Things get so crazy around you all the time that you definitely need the help.

"That is why his girlfriend is going to be your assistant," Rachel grins, like she just handed you the key to happiness, "I talked to Jenny on the phone she is very intelligent and organized. She just quit her job working as a waitress to pursue her journalistic dreams and she needs a flexible job so that she can write when she needs to."

"Okay," you give in. You hope that Jenny is as efficient as Jake. He's a great personal assistant to Rachel. "Why don't we-"

You stop talking when you hear a knock on the front door. There could only be a handful of people at the door because security downstairs is only allow to let a small list that you and Rachel provided them up to your floor.

You get up from the couch and answer the door. Brittany and Santana are standing there, looking guilty. Neither one says anything as you. They just offer you forced smiles. You're thrown by this and step out of the way so that they can get inside.

Rachel sees them and can tell by their demeanor that this is an important conversation so she sits on the armchair, giving them the couch. You sit on the arm of Rachel's chair and look at them. "Okay, so what's going on?" you ask the couple that's seated on your couch.

"Well you know how being engaged means we're getting married right?" Brittany bites her lip. Santana looks as innocently as possible up at you which being her isn't all that innocent looking.

You slowly nod, not sure where they're going with this.

Brittany looks down at her hand and you see something that looks strangely like a wedding band on her finger. It clicks with you and then you look over at Santana's hand where a thinner band is around her left ring finger right next to her engagement ring.

"You two got married?" you ask, "Already?"

"We were kinda…." Santana trails off ominously. You know she means there were probably sort of drunk. "And Brittany wanted to see the mountains. So we rented a little cabin in the mountains and got on a plane. Then when we got to Connecticut we were sober and we stayed in the cabin for a day before we left to go shopping and we ended up getting married."

"You ended up getting married?" you ask, not quite believing it. It's not like people just end up getting married unless there's a fetus and a shotgun involved.

They both nod guiltily. Brittany looks at Santana and they silently converse while you're left to just guess at what they're saying. Finally Brittany looks at you, "We wanted to tell you because even though we're totally not telling our parents that we're already married, we're going to have a wedding and do it their way," she smiles looking over at Santana who is sharing her smile, "We already did it our way."

"So you're going to let your moms go at it?" you ask, knowing that if they do it will be the biggest wedding you've ever been to.

They nod. Santana adds, "Which means it's going to be in Lima."

You sigh, although you're really happy for them, "How come I spend more time there now than when I lived there?"

They both giggle and Santana says, "We just need your help keeping it on the DL until the wedding is over. Like reminding us to take off our rings, you know, stuff like that. Especially supervising me with my dad. You know I tell him everything."

You smile at them with your hands on your hips, but the way they're smiling at you, you know you can't be mad at them, "This is what happens when you're unsupervised for a few days huh? I'm surprised New York hasn't been burned down before I got here."

You glance behind you at Rachel who has her that's-so-adorable smile on. She stands and pulls Brittany off of the couch and into a hug, "Congratulations you guys. We need to celebrate." She gives Santana a hug before offering, "I'm thinking karaoke bar."

"Oh I wanna go," Brittany grins, "San told me about that one you guys went to and I didn't get to go."

You look at yourself in the mirror and shake your head. One little pout from Rachel and you're a puddle. It's not fair. Your dress is tight and your heels are high. You look sexy. You guess that means you're ready.

You see Brittany exit the bathroom behind you in one of your dresses that is a lot shorter on her. You turn to her and ask, "What happened to your phones? Your parents _and_ Santana's parents have been calling you both."

"Oh," Brittany says like she forgot, "We left our phones and some of our clothes in the cabin we rented. The owner of the cabin mailed them to us, but we haven't gotten them yet. Can I use your phone?"

You nod and pick your phone up off of the dresser, "What are you going to tell them?"

"Um…" she trails off. "I don't know."

"You can tell them that you accidentally washed them or something," you offer, "I told Santana's dad that you probably both jumped into a fountain together and forgot to take your phones out of your pockets."

"Good idea," Brittany says and takes your phone into the living room with her.

You look at yourself in the mirror again trying to fix your hair just the way you want it. Rachel walks in and pressed her front to your back, holding you tight, "You are stunning."

You smile at her in the mirror and watch as she rests her chin on your shoulder. "You're stunninger."

She giggles, "I'm not sure that's a word."

"Oh well," you shrug and continue fiddling with your hair, "You know, someday we're going to go far, far away and all emergencies and dramas and scandals will have to wait until we get back."

"Oh c'mon," she pulls away and runs her fingers up your side, tickling you, "What kind of fun would that be?" She stops ticking you and turns you to look at her so she can finish your hair. "Besides, what would you do with yourself if you didn't have people depending on you to fix their problems or feed them or do their laundry?"

You chuckle at that. "I think there's only one person I feed and do laundry for."

"And she's eternally grateful," Rachel kisses you softly. When she pulls you harder against her you sigh into the kiss wanting to take this to the bed and when she breaks the kiss you whimper.

She smiles and pats your shoulder affectionately, "When we get home, no matter how drunk or problem laden Brittany and Santana are, they're not staying here." She rolls onto the balls of her feet and whispers in your ear, "It's been way too long since I've tasted you."

You let out an involuntary shudder. She takes a step back with a sneaky smile and takes your hand, literally dragging you (not quite kicking and screaming, but groaning and limply resisting) into the living room, "C'mon baby we're keeping the newlyweds waiting."


	29. Chapter 29

Rachel kept to her word and shooed Brittany and Santana home when the karaoke was done. That lead to what caused you to wake up naked in her bed the next day. You didn't actually get out of bed much that day either. You practiced so little for your audition that as you stand outside the theatre your hands are shaking because you're so nervous. Rachel helped you pick out your audition song, which you can't remember for the life of you.

When they call your name you remind yourself that this is a small part in an off-Broadway play. It's not a big deal if you don't get it. So you step onto the stage and Rachel keeps telling you, you know how to do.

When you get home, Rachel shoots off of the couch, "How'd it go? What song did you sing?"

You drop your purse on the floor by the door and lock the door behind her, "The only song I could remember the words to was Gold Dust Woman by Fleetwood Mac."

She looks worried at that. You have trouble keeping up your neutral face. "Well what did they say?"

"Before or after they told me I got the part?" A grin breaks out on your face.

Her eyes grow wide and she jumps into your arms, "You got it? That's awesome! I'm so proud of you."

That warms you more that you can say. She's proud of you. She's the first person to tell you that in a really long time.

She pulls you to the couch and sits you down, "Well tell me all about it. How was the stage? How was the set? Were the casting directors nice?"

"They were great," you tell her, still overwhelmed with emotions.

Rachel takes your hands completely invested in the conversation. "Did they say anything about the song?"

"They told me there was something very Stevie Nicks about the character and that they knew the second I started singing Gold Dust Woman they knew I was the one."

"So you're Wendy?" she asks, referring to the part that you auditioned for.

You shake your head with a grin, "They gave me the lead."

"The lead?" her eyes are wide with disbelief.

You frown, "Yeah which is a lot scarier now that you say it like that."

"No no no," she shakes her head, "Don't be nervous. You'll do great. I'm just slightly jealous. I'm in my first leading part right now and I've been in musicals and plays since middle school."

"Oh god," you fall back onto the couch. You didn't think about it before. You were just so excited to get home and tell Rachel, "I'm in over my head."

"No Quinn, That's not what I meant," she takes a deep breath, "you will be amazing. I didn't get lead parts because I wasn't ready. You. Are. Ready. I promise. I wouldn't throw you into this if I didn't think you were okay?"

You look at her and nod, "okay."

"Great let's read this script."

You feel a little better after you both sit down and read it, Rachel in the corner of the couch and you sitting between her legs leaning back into her. Your head falls back perfectly on her shoulder and you both read the script together. She reads every part that's not yours and you read yours. You feel more comfortable with it and when you're both done.

"You're going to be incredible," she kisses your cheek

You find volumes of encouragement in her voice. You take the script out of her hand and drop it on the coffee table. You take her hands and wrap them around you as tight as you can without hurting her. "You really think so?"

"Definitely," she squeezes you and kisses you again, "Soon we will be walking down the red carpet as Broadway's number one power couple. There will be Biography Channel specials on our relationship. We'll get adjacent starts on the Walk of Fame. You are going to be incredible and I am going to be stunning and together nothing can stop us."

"Well," you turn your head and give her a peck on the lips, "If you decide acting isn't for you anymore, you'd have a lucrative career as a public speaker."

She laughs with you for a moment. Then she brushes some hair away from your face. "May I take you out to dinner to celebrate?"

"You may," you kiss her again because you can never, ever do it too much.

You both get dressed up and she takes you to a five star restaurant where the food is so expensive that they don't even print the prices on the menu. She orders a bottle of wine and pours it for both of you. You pick up your glass and swirl it around. It's just hanging in your hand over the table as your thoughts lead you away.

You can just see her laying in a bed, in a room with a view of the beach. Her beautiful tan skin contrasts wonderfully with the white sheet she's wrapped in. The salty ocean air is blowing through the open door to the balcony of your room. The view is beautiful, but you can't take your eyes off of her.

"Quinn?" Rachel asks, pulling you from your fantasy. She grins when you duck your head and blush. "Where'd you go?"

You shrug. It could have been anywhere, but you say, "It could have been Greece or Tahiti. Somewhere with a beach."

"Was I there?" she asks.

You set your wine down and nod, "Of course."

"Was I wearing clothes?" she chuckles.

Again you duck your head and bush, "No."

"Ooh sex on the beach?" she leans forward and rests her chin in her hand. Her gorgeous hair falls around her face.

You shake your head and set your wine down on the table, "You were asleep. We were in a room. You were…you are so beautiful."

Her face gets sentimental and she softly smiles at you, "Thank you. You are not so hard on the eyes yourself."

You bite your lip contemplating the question you're about to ask. "Do you think it'll happen? Us being like a Broadway power couple."

"I know it will," she tells you, reaching around your glasses on the table to take the hand that's playing in your hair. "You know, you're making my dreams come true."

You tilt your head to the side and look at her. You just look at her for a moment. Her eyes shimmer in the light of the two candles on the table and her smile is relaxed. Her hair falls effortlessly around her shoulders. You feel goosebumps run across your arms. Like the first time you saw her. Her chin in her hand as she just gazes back and holds your hand.

You shake your head to get your brain to start again. "I'm sorry. You just…" you can't describe it. She just took you away. You pick up your wine and sip it, "Your dream. How am I possibly doing anything to help that?"

She picks up her head and turns your hand over so that her thumb can stroke your knuckles. "Since I can remember, I've always wanted to be on Broadway, but just as long I've wanted someone to share it with. Someone who appreciates it like I do. It doesn't matter to me that you're going to be a huge star, although I don't think I've been more proud of anyone, myself included." She smiles wider at you and you feel tears sting your eyes. If she keeps saying that you're going to keep to start keeping tissues on you at all times. She inhales slowly before continuing, "This is pretty much everything I've ever dreamed of."

"Even the girl part?" you ask, playfully.

"That was a nice surprise," she adds, "I'll admit that if my fourteen year old self was imagining this, you'd be Taye Diggs." A coy smile flexes with the words.

You laugh. This warm all over feeling you have is something that you're starting to get used to.

When you get back to your apartment, you sense that she's tired so you kiss her goodnight in front of the couch and send her to bed.

The next week you have lunch with Ethan during your break from rehearsal because you feel like you've been neglecting your first non-Lima friend.

"I'm workshopping off-Broadway," you tell him as you're scarfing down a grilled vegetable gyro. The whole catharsis of acting completely famishes you.

"Awesome," he grins, "not that you're workshopping because they don't pay you but you're doing something that you like right?"

You nod. You love it. It's like having a proxy for all you pain. You can release your emotions into the universe with the vessel of your character. You can get rid of unwanted emotions and it's like you're not the one doing it. "It's great. I've met some cool people and they're not like I expected."

He sips his drink with a chuckle, "Stuck up hippie artists or high maintenance divas?"

"Exactly. I live with a high maintenance diva. I don't need to work with any. Anyway, how's the gallery going?" You feel especially bad that you found out about a space he was offered for his work from Rachel who has apparently become friends with your favorite handyman.

"It's great," he beams with absolute pride, "It's almost done. I just have to use my handy-manning skills to fix some things and then it'll be ready for public viewing."

"I expect an opening night invitation." You tease.

"I already gave it to Rachel. You weren't home I guess. She said she'd love to come."

"I'll be there too." You assure him.

You check your watch and see that you need to get back to the theatre. You hug Ethan goodbye and run back to the theatre.

You find that you're the only one that got back from lunch on time. You set your stuff down in the shared dressing room and walk onto the stage. Right now the stage is pretty bare. Right now you're just blocking while trying to memorize your lines at home. You stand in the middle of the stage looking out onto the empty audience. A smile spreads across your face. You feel at home on the stage. You can forget that there are people watching you and pretend to be someone else. A girl who falls in love with her best friend while trying to find herself. Okay so you're pretending to be someone who is kinda like you. You have to admit that your character is funnier than you are and her best friend is a government data clerk with an apartment across the alley from her. But she's fun to be for the few hours at you are her.

You take a deep breath and close your eyes, imagining a packed house and a finished set. You're not you. You're her. You're talking to her best friend, talking over cereal pretending not to be in love with him. You'll wear longing glances and feigned disinterest in his love life.

Your eyes fly open when you hear footsteps walking toward you in the wings of the stage. You turn to see Rachel standing there with a flower in her hand. She smiles apologetically, "I'm sorry. I interrupted your moment."

You open your arms to her without moving your feet. She immediately walks over to you and takes her place in your arms. The way you fit together always amazes you not matter how many times you hold each other.

"It feels good huh?" Rachel asks you quietly, passing the flower off to you, "Like sitting in front of a fire on a cold day."

You look at her with a questioning eye. "Or raindrops on roses?" gesturing to the flower in your hand.

"Mhmm," She giggles, "And whiskers on kittens."

"I don't remember that next line," you confess.

She feigns shock and shakes her finger at you, "We're watching The Sound of Music when you get home tonight. The words to my favorite Julie Andrew's song are essential to know."

"Of course," you nod with a fake air of seriousness.

She rolls her eyes and playfully pushes you away, "Your sarcasm is not appreciated."

You spot some of your cast mates walking in from the front doors of the theatre. When they see you and Rachel their loud laugher dies down and they start whispering to each other.

Your most outspoken and blunt cast mate, Amelia walks right up to both of you and presents her hand to Rachel. "Hi, I'm Amelia. I'm a huge fan of yours."

Rachel politely shakes her hand with a gracious smile, "Thank you so much Amelia."

Your male lead loops his arm around your shoulders. He quietly whispers to you, "I was totally going to ask if the rumors were true, but I thought that would be unprofessional."

"What rumors?" you ask, watching Rachel sign various pieces of paper for some of the crewmembers that are meandering in.

"The ones about you and her," he nods between the two of you.

"Where did you hear these rumors?" you cross your arms and take a step away from him.

He holds his arms up in the air, "Hey, I didn't start he rumors. They've just been kinda…floating around. And I don't blame you for doing it. I totally went on a date with a casting director to get a commercial. It was for like a pet store so all I did was hold a puppy and smile, but it was totally worth it."

You look him over and grit your teeth. He couldn't possibly be suggesting what you think he is.

"So when you're like done with the charade," he whispers, placing his hands on your hips and his lips way too close to your ear, "We can go out and party _hard_?"

You clinch your firsts. You throw his arms away from you and resist kicking him in the groin. You open your mouth to say something, but you're so furious you can't actually form words. Finally you just stalk off. When you get off the stage, you throw open the door to the dressing room and pace behind the row of mirrors and chairs. On one leg of your marathon of stomping and muttering to yourself, you see Rachel standing in the doorway.

"Baby, what's wrong?" she asks you quietly.

You shake your head and continue pacing, "Tony just…accused me of using you to get this part and then hit on me. Go out and party 'hard'? What kind of shit is that?"

" _Excuse_ me?" Rachel asks, her eyes widening and her rarely seen death glare set on her face. She turns on her heel and before you even register what is going on, you hear yelling.

"How _dare_ you speak to Quinn like that!" Rachel who was at least a foot shorter than Tony made him look like a little boy being scolded by his mother, surrounded by everyone involved with the play, "That was not only disrespect of a woman, that you with _never_ be left alone with mind you, it was grotesquely unprofessional."

Just as you're about to go call off your guard Chihuahua, the producer of the play walks up behind her, tapping his clipboard nervously in his hand, "Uh, Ms. Berry? Is there a problem?"

She whirls around, hands on hips. "There is a huge problem."

You slap your forehead and shrink back behind the legs of the stage. This is definitely not going to make anything easier for you. You're going to have to go back to real estate.

Rachel surveys the stage and turns back to the producer, "Before I launch into an extremely long winded rant about why this…person shouldn't be allowed to play such a great part in a wonderful play, I want to ask the ladies in the room, has this," she turns to Tony and asks his name. When he supplies it she continues, "raise your hand if Tony has his on you."

Most of the girls in the room raise their hands. Your eyes widened. At least you're not alone. Then Rachel nods as if she knew the answer. She asks a different question, "Keep your hand up if when he _shamelessly_ hit on you, he offered any extraordinarily lame innuendos referring to sex?"

Most of the women kept their hands up. Granted it was a small production, but there were still a fair amount of women.

Rachel looks to the producer, "In this day and age, how can you put up with such barbaric behavior when there are more and most likely better, actors just waiting to be discovered?"

"I um well…Ms. Berry, I can't um…" the wiry man nervously taps his clipboard again, "We need…" He looks around at all the people in the room, women and men both, staring at him with a look of 'well, do something'. He finally let out a sigh, "Tony may I have a word with you in my office."

Tony walks as far away from everyone as he can, slinking down the backstage hall. The producer follows the actor down the hallway.

Amelia hugs Rachel who laughs at the contact. "Thank you so much! He was insufferable! And I thought it was just me."

Rachel's eyes seek you out over Amelia's shoulder, "It's happened to the best of us."

"You _are_ the best of us!" Amelia laughs loudly.

The director finally got control of everyone and the crew starts working on the set again, leaving the actors to do their pre-rehearsal exercises. You don't really have any of those so you just wait for Rachel to walk over to you.

She pulls you into a dark corner of the backstage and rests one of her hands on your side a little above your hip. "Are you okay? Did he like…touch you inappropriately?"

You shake your head, "No. But you going all Gloria Allred doesn't make his point any less moot."

For a beat her eyes widen in panic. She took what you said the wrong way. So you quickly shake your head, "The point that I didn't get this job by myself."

Rachel places her hand over her heart and takes a deep breath, "You _did_ get this job by yourself."

You shake you head venomously, "No I didn't."

You can see Rachel scan around her for a moment, looking for somewhere more private before taking your hand and pulling you to the spiral staircase that leads up to the catwalk. It takes a few minutes, but when you get up there, you both sit down facing the stage.

"Don't get me wrong," you finally say, "I really do appreciate you standing up for me like you did."

She drops her head and nods, "But I overstepped. I'm sorry."

"It's okay," you take her hand, slipping your fingers between hers. "I just…I realized that I've never gotten anything on my own."

Rachel turns her head and looks at you, "What do you mean?"

You sigh. This is something you weren't actually planning on telling her. At least not until you'd been married for fifty years and you told her while you're both watching your grandchildren play. "In high school, the second I start struggling with something, a class or a project I enlisted help. I didn't get on the Cheerios my first try-out because Coach Sylvester said that she had already reached her blonde quota. My dad bought the entire team new uniforms before Coach let me on. My mom talked to a few people at Lima Real Estate before I even submitted my resume. You got me this audition before I even decided on a career." You pull your knees to your chest and rest your forehead on them.

"Who lead the McKinley Cheerio to two consecutive national titles before defecting to the glee club?" Rachel asks after letting you stew for a few minutes.

Instead of answering, you just turn your head to look at her. You can see where this is going.

"Who was the second highest grossing real estate agent in Lima? Who got the lead role in an off-Broadway play on her very first try, making her girlfriend extremely jealous?" she pokes your side with an affectionate smile, "I think you get my point Quinn. You may have had a little help here and there and maybe the people you know opened a few doors, but you're the one that walked through the door and awed all the people on the other side."

You allow her to pull you into her arm and kiss your forehead, "I realize at this point I'm more of a handicap than anything, so I'll try to keep the protective outbursts to a minimum."

"Thanks," you sigh into her, closing your eyes, "You can't go scaring off all my on stage boyfriends."

"As much as I would like to…" she trails off with a chuckle.

You two take a minute to just sit there and think before you decide that you better get downstairs. Most of the actors are done with their warm ups so you need to get to work. Rachel tells you goodbye, but doesn't kiss you because of all the people watching. You're disappointed, but you're sort of relieved.

Another week or so goes by and you have your first full weekend off. You have to admit that it's a special kind of nice to not wake up at the ass crack of dawn. It's so nice that you don't even get out of bed when you wake up. You just snuggle under the covers and sigh contently.

That's before Rachel comes thundering toward your room. "We can be official now!" she runs into your room and jumps on your bed. She drapes herself over your blanket covered body and kisses your cheek, "but we have to be caught in a PG kiss."

This is a lot for your not even awake yet brain. You take a second before answering. "Get caught? Do you wanna go make out on Times Square?"

She laughs and burrows into you, "No. Jacob is on a plane right now so as soon as he gets here we can just go out and he'll follow us in his freaky stalker way. When he posts the pictures on the blog, Kathy will release a statement and that will be that."

"Good," you roll onto your side, dumping her onto the mattress next to you. Now that your arms are free, you pull her to you, "I'm tired of having to stop myself from having to restrain myself from kissing you."

"Restrain no more." She doesn't restrain herself either. She kisses you hard, pushing you into the mattress.

After a little at home PG-13 making out, she rests her head on your stomach.

"This is good timing since I don't have rehearsal and you don't have a show," you offer, remembering that you were supposed to do something tonight anyway because you rehearse during the day and her shows are in the evening you haven't been getting to see much of each other except on Sunday evenings after her matinee show and your Sunday rehearsal.

"Some may call it good timing," She sits up and grins, "I call it shameless begging." She waits for you to finish your giggle before explaining, "I've called Kathy everyday for two weeks begging and pleading and threatening, the latter not working very well. Regardless, I finally and reasonably explained to her that today is the perfect day and that I can't stop myself anymore. And that the next time someone hits on you I can't be held responsible for what happens to them or anything that comes out of my mouth."

"Like fire?"

She rolls her eyes and whacks you with a pillow. You just smile in return. After she dips her head down to kiss you, she adds, "Anyway, Jacob is going to text me when he arrive and I'll tell him where we're going. After that we just have a good time."

"Isn't that kind of creepy?" you ask, admiring her sleeping shorts. Her very short sleeping shorts. Your fingers lazily slide up and down her thigh gradually climbing higher.

"No creepier than it was in high school," she answers evenly. She's doing pretty well for her. Usually you start doing this and as soon as your fingers cross under her shorts she's pawing at your clothes. But she's remaining composed and still sitting up even though you can see the intense concentration it's taking on her face.

You decide to try a new tactic. You remove your hands completely and stretch with your arms above your head. You know that your shirt is riding up exposing you stomach and your shorts slip down just enough to be suggestive. Then you slip out of the bed, "I'm going to take a shower."

You can hear an audible pout as you cross the threshold of your bathroom. After starting the shower and taking off your clothes you call back to her, "Wanna join me?"

She doesn't need to be asked twice.


	30. Chapter 30

Rachel had to go to a cast meeting after your joint shower so you are alone in the apartment. You decide to do something that you never do and get back into bed. You're halfway into your favorite novel when the front door opens. "Quinn?"

You smile and set your book down, getting out from under the blankets on your bed.

When you see her she looks…well you can't really tell. It's almost sad, but the only thing you can identify for sure is neediness. She drops her purse and when you looks at you with her big brown eyes you ask, "What happened?"

"I want you to kiss me like we don't have anywhere to go or anywhere to be for the rest of our lives. I just got out of a very unpleasant meeting and I need you to kiss me." Her hands are on your waist pulling you to her.

You didn't answer. You just do as she asked. You feel her whole body press against yours, leaning on you to hold her up. Your lips and tongue move very slowly. Your tongue slides against hers at a languid pace, drawing out her bad day and replacing it with sweet caresses. This goes on for at least ten minutes. Finally she pulls back and sighs into you neck, "Thank you."

"Anytime," you kiss her head, pulling the scarf off of her and tossing it onto the entryway table, "Do you want to talk about it?"

"Always," you can hear the smile in her voice.

"C'mon," you pull her to the kitchen, " You sit at the bar and I'll get you some wine. You can talk while I make lunch."

She tells you that three people in the cast are leaving to do other things. Her favorite make-up artist is moving to California and she's going to have to work on four of the eight days of Hanukah. You nod thoughtfully while making her favorite sandwich, listening to everything she says. Although you don't think that seems like such a bad day, you suppose that the Broadway world is infinitely more dramatic than the regular world.

You set both of your sandwiches on the dining table and grab some drinks from the refrigerator. She sighs heavily, staring at her sandwich with a goofy smile on her face that's been there since you were mashing up the avocado for the sandwiches. She lifts her head up, studying you for a moment before quietly chuckling to herself.

"What?" you ask, completely perplexed.

She just shakes her hand with a small smile and picks up her sandwich, "Thanks for lunch."

Rachel doesn't get a text from Jacob until after you've watched The Sound of Music and My Fair Lady. You're laying on the couch with her laying on top of you, her head on your chest. It's abnormally cold in your apartment and you can see the window fogging up, the telltale sign that winter is coming. You've done absolutely nothing productive at all and it feels great.

When she picks up her phone she lifts her torso and looks at you, "We have to go get ready."

You grin because her hair is disheveled from laying so long. It's falling out of the loose ponytail she put it up in and her eyes are sleepy. You put your hands on her face and bring it forward so you can kiss her.

She hums into the kiss and nips at your lips before asking without moving back, "What was that for?"

Instead of answering you pull her in again. You let your tongue slip into her mouth, caressing the projector of her beautiful voice. You hands don't stray from her face, softly pulling her deeper. She balances herself over you with one hand on the couch and the other roaming over the material of your long sleeved shirt over your stomach.

You know that this is going to end soon because although she's always late to everything, she doesn't like to keep people waiting when it has to do with her work. Which means that you're extremely surprised when she kisses up and down your neck. Your body reacts without your consent, arching into her.

"Rach, you said we have to go get ready," you move your hands to her back, your fingers grabbing onto the back of her shirt when her tongue traces up the side of your neck.

Her hand leaves your stomach, slipping under your shirt. She lightly draws swirling patterns across your stomach. You shiver at her warm skin on yours. You're about to tell her not to start something she's not going to finish when she slides her right leg between your thigh pressing into you.

You throw your head back and push into her thigh. You pull at her shirt trying to get her closer, trying to get her to move the way you need her to.

She gets the message and rolls her hips, grinding against you. You push your right leg up, sensing that she needs it too. She moans into your collarbone, continuing to grind you together. Your whole body is hot and when she pushes your shirt up to your neck, the cold air of the apartment shotguns goosebumps all over your body. Her kisses to your breasts are soft, but urgent. Her fiery mouth on your newly chilled skin sends you reeling. You can't even think. Hell, you can barely breathe.

"Rach, please," you plead. You can't really form the words to tell her what you really mean, but she's been purposefully avoiding your painfully hard nipples.

You gasp when she takes one of them into her mouth and sucks hard while grinding into you harder than she was. All the air disappears from your lungs. The feeling seems to be mutual because instead of her mouth all you feel is her labored breath caressing your chest until her hand starts gently kneading while her mouth finds yours again.

You wrap your arms around her neck, holding her in place, joining in her rhythm. You know you're close. You're painfully close. All you want is for her to jump over the edge with you.

When she comes it's with a soft whimper into your mouth. She doesn't stop the movement of her hips until your while body moves into her with a swift, furious orgasm. You groan loudly holding onto her body as tight as you can. Your eyes squeeze shut as she falls into you.

Once the whiteness fades from your vision you become aware of her panting on your shoulder. She's fully laying on you again. You smile and stroke her hair until she picks her head up. There's a content smile on her face, Her eyes travel to your still exposed chest, which you're suddenly self-conscious about. You pull your shirt down, and take her hands in your own.

She threads your fingers together. "I think we need to take a shower." She moves your hands above your head and kisses you again.

"Isn't someone waiting on us?" you ask.

"Mhmm," Rachel nods, "But, he can wait. We have to look our best." She mischievously grins. When she has that look on her face, you know what's going to happen and that you'll go along with whatever she wants.

After primping and trying your best to look great, but not like you planned to get your picture taken making out in public, you're standing across the street from your destination waiting for the almost-never-effective crosswalk signal to change. "I think it's weird that he's there and I can't see him," you mutter scanning the crowd again.

She grabs your hand and pulls you into the street the second that the light changes, "Forget him. It's you and me right now. We're going to have a sangria at this wine bar and then we're going to walk through the park. We'll kiss under a streetlamp and on a bench and whenever we feel like it because we're not hiding anymore. The world will know I am yours and you're mine."

"I like that part," you admit and pull your eyes off of some bushes where Jacob Ben Israel may or may not be. You pull her to you, your arms wrapping around her shoulders protecting her from a gust of wind, "Are you sure? Absolutely sure that you want to do this because once it's out you can't put it back."

"One hundred percent," she grins and you search her eyes finding nothing but confidence. You wish you were as sure as her. You don't care about what happens to you. You're worried about her and her career.

"If you don't stop asking me that, I _am_ going to drag you to Times Square and kiss you in front of everyone. Then I will sing of my love for you to every tourist with a video phone." She punctuates her sentence with a poke to your ribs.

"Okay okay," you laugh because you know she would, "Lead the way."

You follow her into what has become your go to wine bar. Rachel loves their Sangria and you love taking her to get things she loves.

You both order sangria and she takes your hand holding it on the small table for two in the back of the dim bar. She's been quiet for the past few minutes, thoughtfully sipping her wine and smiling at you like you're her favorite thing on the planet.

"Quinn I have something to tell you. It may not be a big deal to you but it was somewhat of a revelation for me. I was watching you cook in the kitchen on after my not so pleasant meeting and it hit me. It just popped into my head," she uses her free hand to trace the rim of her wine glass, "Now, on the eve of our announcement, seems like the best time to tell you. Especially because of your doubts."

You can't take it anymore. You lean forward, "Are you going to tell me?"

She grins bashfully, "Of course. I was watching you move around the kitchen making me my favorite food after a morning that had been terrible for me and I thought, 'I'm so in love with her.'"

"With me?" it seems like a stupid question but you can't help asking.

She laughs her fully jovial laugh. Her hair ripples with each guffaw. "Of course with you." She calms down and takes your hand in both of yours, "Quinn Fabray I am in love with you."

"I'm in love with you too," you beam and bring her hand to your lips kissing her knuckles.

Once you've finished your wine, she takes your hand, intertwined your fingers, and leads you into the night. You haven't felt this light on you feet in a long time. She drags you across the street, into a small park swinging your hands between you.

As you walk you wonder if Jacob has his picture yet. Not that it really matters. You haven't seen him yet and you're not actually sure he's there. So you decide to pretend that he's not.

You look over at Rachel who is looking at you. She smiles and kisses you, "What are you thinking about?"

"Nothing important," you sigh contently.

Suddenly she steps in front of you and pulls you by the faux wool coat lapels, crushing your lips together. Your hands react before your lips do, caressing her face. You get your lips moving and pull her bottom lip in between your teeth. When you bite down she moans into your mouth.

"Let's go home," she mumbles against your lips, "I want to do some things to you that would get us arrested out here."

You giggle and pull back, "Is it safe to go home yet?"

"I don't care," she advances again kissing you hard. Your back is pressed to the lamppost before you know it and her hands are inside of your coat, "I have a camera at home. We'll take our own pictures."

"I'm not ready for a leaked sex tape," you grin and pull her hands out of your coat, "And neither is your daddy. He'd murder me."

She throws her head back and laughs. "You're right." She takes your hand and starts dragging you again, "but we're going hone cause I'm still going to do indecent things to you."

You look around again and ask, "What if he didn't get the pictures?"

"He can stay another night. But I'm sure he did. This is Jacob Ben Israel we're talking about."

"True," you nod and look both ways before you cross the street, "So these things you're going to do to me..."

Rachel's phone rings waking you both up and six thirty. She just rolls over and pulls a pillow over her head. You however, get up the silence the object. You pull a blanket around you because it's freezing cold and you're wearing…well nothing. You grab her phone out of her purse that's laying sideways next to the door of the bedroom. When you pluck it out, you check the screen then toss it onto the bed, hitting Rachel in the leg with it.

"Who is it?" she asks, not leaving the safe haven of the pillow.

"Kathy," you state and fall back into the bed, taking your turn to pull a pillow over your head.

Rachel mumbles something incoherent, but after a few seconds she says, "Thanks bye." She huffs and snuggles into your back, draping her arm over your middle.

"What did she want?" you ask pushing yourself backwards to feel her body against yours. If you weren't so tired it'd be incredible arousing to feel her naked form pressed against yours.

She kisses your shoulder blade and snuggles her face into the back of your neck, "She told me that we look great in the picture and that there's huge buzz already. Something about a press conference….I stopped listening."

"Rachel," you try to chide her, but you're just as tired as her. So you yawn and hold her arm over you. "You need to…" That's as far as you get before you fall asleep again.

The next time you wake up it's to your own phone. You growl and take Rachel's method of pulling your pillow over your head. You hear a chuckle from the direction of the bathroom and you realize that Rachel's no longer in the bed with you. You peek from under the pillow and see Rachel, in sweatpants and a t-shirt brushing her teeth. She grabs your phone from a mess of clothes on the floor and tosses it onto the bed. But apparently she doesn't have as good of an aim as you because it hits you in the head.

You decide that sort of, but not really test your acting chops and howl in pain, "Ow!"

After running into the bathroom for a brief moment, Rachel runs back out and kneels down next to the bed stroking your blanket covered head, "I'm so sorry."

You can't stop a giggle and pull the covers down so that only your eyes are peeking out, "Check me out. I'm an actor."

She rolls her eyes and stands up, "That was mean." You caught the smirk on her lips so you know she's not mad.

Finally you blindly reach for the phone and answer it with a "What?"

"I'm sorry, did I wake you up?" Jenny, you personal assistant that you've never actually met yet, asks.

You sit up and sigh, "Yeah, but I probably needed to get up. What time is it?"

"Eight," she states.

"Oh shit," you rub your eyes. You have an hour to get ready and be at the theatre for rehearsal. You don't want to go. You want to go back to bed and drag Rachel with you. You scan for Rachel who is singing to herself from the direction of her bedroom door. "Um," you remember you're on the phone with Jenny when you hear her drop something with a loud clang, "What did you need?"

"I just called to ask if you wanted me to pick up the news paper on the way to drop off your dry cleaning," she states.

"Oh sure," you tell her, "Not the Times just the Voice and that Broadway one."

"Got it," she says confidently, "I'll be at your apartment in like ten minutes. I hope you don't mind. Jake gave me the key."

"No problem," you shrug. If Jake has it why shouldn't Jenny.

When you hang up, you make your way to your bathroom. You spot Rachel in the kitchen standing next to the coffee maker, looking at it completely befuddled. You chuckle and pit stop in the kitchen to start the coffee for her before getting ready in your bathroom.

As you're putting some tights on that you plan to wear under a really long shirt, your phone buzzes. When you open the text from Brittany you laugh hard. _You and Rach look super hot in your pic. Congrats!_

You've got to see this picture so you grab your laptop on the way to the kitchen. Rachel has your coffee waiting for you on the table. You smile at her as you sit down. She seems to know what you're doing so when you open your computer, she scoots her chair next to yours and rests your chin on her shoulder so she can see.

It feels so weird typing both of your names into Google. You used to do it just to her name to see what she was up to just to make your miserable existence in Lima bearable. Now she's leaning on you waiting to see how the picture of your first official public kiss came out. It's all so unreal to you and you kiss her cheek. She just smiles at you and squeezes your arm.

She's excited. You're excited. You just can't wait to see how it turned out. You click on the first link on the page that happens to be a link to Jacob's website. When you see the first picture on the first page, your heart stops. You almost don't recognize yourself.

It's the kiss Rachel pulled you into under a sidewalk lamp. Your lips fit together just like puzzle pieces. Your eyes are closed in surprise and her lips are curled into a smile. She has you by the lapels of your coat and your hand closest to the camera is on the back of her jaw. The beauty of the moment astounds you. You feel your chest swell with pride and love. Your love is beautiful and now the whole world knows.

"Do you think I could make that the wall paper in my bedroom?" she asks you quietly. You chuckle and lean your head on hers.

After a deep breath and a moment to thoughtfully just take in the scenery around you in the picture, you say, "It's different seeing yourself kiss someone."

She nods. Her chin leaves your shoulder and she kisses the curve of your neck right next to the top of your shirt. "You're beautiful."

You smile contently and let your eyes slide closed. "That's exactly what I was thinking about you."

"Would it be bad form to read the accompanying story?" she asks, hinting that she wants you to scroll down and see what Jacob wrote.

"I think it would be bad form not to," you answer and move down the page. You sit your coffee as you read. She's leaning on you to read with you.

_Rumors have been circulating that Broadway star Rachel Berry is dating high school rival, former real estate agent and current budding "actress" Quinn Fabray. At the Tony Awards Rachel refused to answer any questions about her relationship with Ms. Fabray before publicly thanking her for "reminding [her] what passion is" and calling Fabray her "best friend" and "confidante". Last night they two were seen holding hands and canoodling in an intimate bar before heading for a moonlit walk in the park. Our cameras caught the two in a very intimate kiss in the park. A statement released from Rachel's publicist states "They're very happy together."_

Then the article directed the readers to a poll at the bottom of the page. It was labeled "Publicity Stunt or True Love". You resist pressing the button to reveal what other people thought. You know there's an awfully large chance that a lot of people think this is a publicity stunt. Not that Rachel needs it.

Before you can click on anything else Rachel reaches around you and closes the window. "I must warn you because you're new to this. You shouldn't read much of what people say about you. People are mean. Especially when they can hid behind anonymous comments that they leave while they're in the basement of their mother's house wearing only underwear." You kisses you cheek, "But we'll be fine and soon this whole frenzy will blow over. Some of those loose rock stars in Los Angeles will cheat on their wives and we'll be old news okay?"

You nod, knowing that she's right. She rests both of her hands on your left hip, holding you in a loose embrace. You don't realize that you've been quiet for so long when she asks, "Are you okay? Was it a bad idea?"

You immediately shake your head, "No I was just…thinking. People are mean. And I don't handle people being mean to you well." You pause, "This is going to sound really creepy when I say this, but when I lived in Lima and had nothing better to do during my lunch breaks, I would occasionally be one of those losers on the message boards defending you to the world."

She giggles and kisses you, "My hero."

"Yeah well now I can yell at people to their face," you grin and close your computer, "Are you hungry?"

"Starved," she wiggles her eyebrows, "I had a late night work out."

You laugh and rise out of your seat to get something started.

The front door opens just as you serve Rachel her breakfast. You make your way to the entryway and are met with a woman who you assume is Jenny. There's something distinctly exotic about her with her long dark hair and deep tan. She smiles a perfect smile at you and readjusts your dry cleaning in her hand so that she can shake your hand, "You must be Quinn."

You nod, "And you must be Jenny. It's so great to finally meet you."

Jenny just smiles, a dimple punctuating the right side of her face. "So if you'll just point me to your room, I'll hang these up and won't have to ask from now on."

You lead her to your room and point her to the closet. She asks if you arrange your closet in a specific way and you shake your head. She says that Kathy called her and told her about a bunch of interview that you're being asked to do as you both walk to the kitchen. You offer Jenny some coffee which she gratefully accepts.

You like her. She seems smart, organized, and has a good sense of humor. You're not sure what to look for in a personal assistant, but that seems like a great start.

"I'm mostly working off of what Jake does for Rachel," Jenny explains, "So at the beginning of each week I'll send you a calendar of events and rehearsals and public appearances as well as a detailed list of offers. Your agent has my phone number and so does your publicist. They're now going to call me instead of you."

You nod. Your head is spinning. You've never had and needed a personal assistant and now your personal assistant is making you realize just how much you need her.

Rachel walks in to take her dirty dishes to the sink. You don't really acknowledge her until she walks up behind you and wraps her arms around your waist. She extends her hand around you to Jenny who takes it, "It's a pleasure Ms. Berry."

"Call me Rachel," you sense something in Rachel's voice that is less than warm.

You're about to ask her what's up when Jenny continues, "If you need anything during the day, you have my number."

You nod. This is so weird for you, but you guess it's part of dating a high profile actress. "Thank you so much Jenny."

She nods, "So I am going grocery shopping with Jake for you two. Anything special you wanted?"

You turn your head to look at Rachel in a silent question, but you find her eyes scanning Jenny. You pull away and little bit and frown at her. She sees you looking and blushes her head tilting down.

"No we're fine," you tell Jenny.

Your assistant tells you goodbye and leaves you and Rachel alone.

"You were totally checking out my assistant," you tell Rachel with your arms crossed.

She leans on the counter across from, "I wasn't…well I was, but not why you think." She sighs, "I think she's too pretty to be your assistant. She's tall and skinny and clearly not Jewish…" You start to smile which you can see frustrates Rachel. She huffs and crosses her arms, "It's not funny."

"Maybe not funny," you drop your arms and pull her into a hug. She keeps her arms crossed, but you still hold her to you, "But completely adorable." You reach down and pull at her arms until they're uncrossed and she holds onto your waist. "I will concede that she's tall and skinny. I suppose she may not be Jewish, but I don't think she's too pretty to be my assistant. Because I am dating the most beautiful woman in the world who needs to stop being so jealous because I've been in love with her since I was fourteen."

"Well this woman you're in love with still has a few insecurities and knows that you love her, but can't help but be who she is. She's an only child who gets jealous and possessive. She's still insecure because two of the three boys she's ever really loved cheated on her with, ironically, you. Not that she's holding a grudge against you because now she knows why," her head is tilted down, but you feel her chest expand and constrict with a deep breath, "I'm still worried about the tabloids Quinn."

"Hey," you move back a few inches so she has to look at you. When you have her eyes, you tell her, "I give you permission to question me about every picture and rumor about me and I promise to tell you the truth. You can call me to see where I am whenever you want."

She shakes her head, "That's ridiculous and I don't want to be _that_ girl. If I did that I'd be the husband in the majority of the Lifetime movies and those always end bad. Anyway, I trust you, I do. But I have momentary bouts with insanity." She smiles and kisses you, "Besides, how can you cheat on me when we have the best sex life ever?"

You chuckle and allow her to pin you to the counter. You're glad she shifted the mood to playful because you know that the backlash from your coming out is building so you need this while you have it, "So you just use me for sex?"

"Oh definitely," she playfully throws back, "That and your cooking."

"What are you planning to use me for next?" you ask, but you're pretty sure you have an idea when her hands slip under your shirt.

"Well," she pauses to look at the clock on the wall, "You have to leave in twenty minutes and that's definitely not enough time for you make my favorite cookies so…I guess that leaves sex."


	31. Chapter 31

It seems that a few of your cast mates and the crew had heard about you and Rachel. A few of them congratulated you and a few were a little too interested in Rachel. After a few hours though the novelty wears off and your directors bitchy mood causes everyone to focus.

When you get home, Rachel is sitting at the kitchen table sipping on some tea and reading a book. Her foot is on the edge of her chair and her chin rests on her bent knee. She smiles at you and watches you put down your things.

"Where's my kiss?" she fake pouts as you get out some water.

You chuckle and walk over to her giving her, her kiss before taking the seat next to her.

"How was rehearsal?" she asks, closing her book.

You shrug, "It was okay. Courtney, the new male lead, is turning out to be pretty awesome." You check your phone and find a text from Jenny reminding you of your interview in a few days. You groan and Rachel asks you what's wrong.

"My first interview," you answer, sipping your water, "It's kinda scary." Actually it's really scary. Terrifying even. So many things could go wrong. You could say something wrong, trip over your words. What you say could be taken out of context….so many things.

"We'll practice," Rachel puts her leg down and sits up straight. "I'll ask you a few questions so you get the feel for what they'll ask." She finds a notepad and pen and has her hand poised to write, "okay where did you and Rachel meet?"

You lick your lips and answer, "We met in high school."

"Was it love at first sight?" you can see the grin fighting it's way onto her face.

You let out a wistful smile, "I didn't realize it at the time but for me it was yeah."

"You didn't realize it at the time?" her eyes stay on the paper as she scribbles away.

"No," you shake your head, "She kinda like..." you pause, "Rach I don't know what to say."

"How did it feel?" she sets her pen down and leans forward, patiently waiting for your answer.

"It felt... Weird," you offer, then feels like that was the wrong thing to say. When you look back at her she's just looking at you without any kind of judgment. You take a deep breath an continue, "It felt like I knew you were important but I never knew how. Not until that talk we had in the hallway. I don't want to use the word obsessed but I thought about you a lot."

"Use the line about me being important," Rachel advises and then breaks out in a smile, "It's so odd for me to think back to my time at McKinley and know what I know now. It changes my whole perspective."

"I wasn't ready for you yet. I wasn't even ready for me yet." You add as she continues writing.

"I know this hasn't come up yet but I do want you to be ready just in case it does. How are you going to handle questions about Beth?"

You exhale. You knew that was coming. Rachel had yet to ask you about Beth throughout your entire New York relationship. You're surprised that you even got this far without it coming up.

At this you are at a total loss for what to say. "I don't know. What do you think?"

"How do you feel about it?" She looks down at the paper, biting her lip like she's nervous.

"I know I did the right thing but... But part of me will always be missing." Rachel again puts down her pen to look at you, "Sometimes I feel it more than others. But she's always there. A small part of me is always thinking about her."

Rachel looks at you and you can see that she's weighing if she should ask you what she wants to or not. Of course she is Rachel so the talking side wins out over the non-talking side. "What do you think about?"

"I wonder what she's doing, how she's doing," you sigh and feel an old pain in your chest, "She's almost seven now so she's in second grade. I wonder if she's a good student or if she likes reading like I do. Does she make friends? Does she like to sing? Dance? What did she get from me? What did she get from Puck?"

Rachel is quiet, just listening to what you say. She doesn't offer any judgment or comforting words. She just looks at you.

You take a moment to gather yourself before adding, "I'll probably just ask Kathy."

Rachel nods and turns back to her pad.

You can see it in her. She's holding something back and you don't want that, "I know you want to ask me something. Please do. It's freaking me out."

"Do you regret it?" she asks with hesitation.

"Cheating on Finn? Yes. Puck being my first? Yes. I don't regret Beth. She doesn't deserve that. She deserves the best life that can be given to her and Shelby Cochran is doing that. I know because I know she has regrets too and she's making up for them."

"Do you want to talk about her?" Rachel asks, "I mean since you think about her all the time. If you want you can just talk and I'll just listen."

"Um not right now," you scratch you arm not meeting her eyes, "but next time I feel like talking about it. It's just... The only other person I've ever talked about it to was Puck and we both had to get really drunk to do it without it being super awkward."

"I understand," she nods, "I'm just offering. You know you can always talk about anything." You know she's a little disappointed, but she's taking it in stride.

You decide to chance the subject, "I got my first paparazzi picture taken today."

She grins, "How was it?"

"It was okay," you stand up from your place and walk to the cabinet, extracting a glass. You pour yourself some orange juice and lean back on the counter, "I'm sure you're experience will be more memorable." Suddenly a thought occurs to you and you tilt your head, "Can they photoshop me into a night club picture with a drink in my hand?"

"Ooh at a strip club?" Rachel asks, laughing with the goofy smile on her face, "I bet they could even add a stripper giving you a lap dance."

"With my waiting-for-the-crosswalk-signal face?" you ask with a growing smile.

"Oh especially with your waiting-for-the-crosswalk-signal face," she say and then breaks out laughing.

You laugh with her until your abs hurt and you're holding onto the chair for support. After a while you're both doing your own things in the kitchen. She's finishing the puppy she started drawing when she was pretending to write notes for the fake interview and you're making some more tea.

You walk into the living room to look out the window and down at the streets below. It's getting cold outside and that makes you smile. Although you spend more time in Rachel's bed than you do in your own, it gives you an extra good excuse to cuddle with her for warmth.

You feel Rachel walk up behind you and hold you from behind. "What are you looking at?"

"Nothing really," you answer, sighing deeply. After a moment of just standing there, you turn your head and ask, "Can I walk you to work?"

Rachel kisses your cheek, "Of course. You can even stay and watch the play if it isn't too boring for you since you have seen it more times than anyone else. Or you could hang out in my new Tony Award winner dressing room."

You chuckle and glance at the award that is now the centerpiece of the display on one shelf of a built in bookcase since you don't have a mantel. "Would it be weird if I waited for you in your dressing room?" You don't add that you don't want to be alone. You want her close.

She kisses your cheek again, "Definitely not weird. You can watch TV or read a book or sleep. My dressing room is your dressing room. Until your show starts, of course, because hiking six blocks in full stage make up is not advisable."

Once you're both bundled up with the inclusion of sunglasses for hopeful anonymity, you leave your apartment. But you don't even get past the first block before you see the first camera.

"Ignore them," Rachel tells you as you continue to walk.

You blow your bangs out of your eyes, "It's difficult when they all walk like buffalo."

She giggles and pulls you into a coffee shop. The photographers stay outside while you two walk up to the counter. You look questioningly at Rachel who tells you that you may get thirty or hungry during the show.

While you're waiting for your order, you two take a seat at a table far enough away from the windows so that no one can get a clear picture of you.

Rachel asks, nibbling at a vegan cookie you two decided to share, "How do you want to do the holidays?"

"What do you mean?" you glance out the window and see a few of the cameramen smoking cigarettes and chatting amongst themselves.

"Like do you want to go to Lima or do you want to fly our parents and your sister out here? Hanukah is a must for me but I can do Christmas too if you want or if you want it to just be your mom and sister and her husband." She rambles like she does when she's nervous and you think it's adorable.

You shrug, "It's up to you. I just want to spend the holiday with you."

She grins, "Good answer. We're going to Lima and we're bringing Ethan because his family will be out of the country and he will be alone. Also," she pauses smiling wide. She uses her hands to gesture widely before saying, "Chrismukkah."

You chuckle, "How Seth Cohen of you."

"Who?" She furrows her eyebrows.

Why are you not surprised that she doesn't know who that is? "The guy from the O.C."

"Is that a movie?" She takes another bite of the cookie as your order is called.

You add, "I now know why you and my mom get alone so well," before getting up to get it.

"I don't know who this Cohen guy is, but I read the term in an article about mixed religion couples." Rachel states, standing with you and putting on her coat.

Again, are you really surprised? "Aren't your dads mixed religion?" You pick up her scarf and loop it around her neck.

She smiles at you and kisses your cheek before tucking one end of the scarf into the other, "They were but since their marriage daddy converted to Judaism. Hence no longer mixed."

"Ah," you've thought about converting for her. She's just never hinted that she wants you too. You've always thought that the Jewish faith is interesting and it made the most sense. You spent many a night when you were pregnant with Puck talking about deep things, deeper things than you thought possible from him. Religion was a big one and he told you everything he learned in Hebrew school and you're sure you could still read it a little. You decide to ask her if she wants you to convert in the most indirect way you can, "Do you like being mixed religion?"

She stops what she's doing and looks at you. "Do you?"

"I asked you first." You pick up your to-go bag and coffee.

She picks up hers and starts slowly leading the way toward the door, "Are you insinuating what I think you are?"

"Probably unless it makes you mad at me. In that case you are way off base." You add with a smile.

"I think we're talking about one of us converting religions." She pauses right in front of the door. You can see the photographers getting ready behind her.

"We are sort of. Because when you say one of us, I'm thinking me." You throw it all out there before you can take it back or give up entirely.

"Really?" she asks quietly.

You nod keeping your hold on her eyes, "Your religion is important to you. I'm not sure there is a process for converting to mutt."  
"Are you sure?" she asks, pushing open the door, "That's a big decision."

"I'm sure," you nod.

She smiles at you like you just laid your coat down in the puddle for her, "If you do it, the classes don't really matter. Plus, they're super boring and I wouldn't want you to have to go through that. I'm sure being surrounded by the Jewish Berrys at Hanukah will be enough."

You laugh as she slides her hand into yours, ignoring the paparazzi and leading you to the theatre. Her new dressing room is impressive. You lay on the extremely comfortable purple couch in her dressing room while her hair is getting done. She's talking to the stylist about her kids and her holiday plans. You're on your phone texting Santana about how her and Brittany's moms are going crazy with the wedding.

When Santana sends you pictures of the bridesmaids dresses you burst out laughing.

"What going on?" Rachel swivels in her chair and looks at you.

"How do you feel about sequins?" you ask her.

"Who are you talking to?" Rachel asks, readjusting her robe.

"Santana," you grin and sit up, "About the wedding."

"Oh no really?" Rachel walks over to the couch and sits next to you. You show her the picture and she sighs, "Why did we agree to be maids of honor?"

"Because Santana's my best friend and she asked."

"And Brittany is my best friend and I had too many drinks and insisted." She laughs and looks at the picture again, "You'd think the women who spawned Brittany and Santana would have better fashion sense than that."

"Do you think we could talk them into something nicer?" you ask, dropping your head on Rachel's shoulder, "If the paparazzi are still following us, I really don't want me wearing that on the cover of a tabloid."

"You?" she asks, "What about me wearing that?"

You sit up and let out a smile, "You look good in anything?"

The lights in the dressing room flicker as you both search the internet on your phone for a dress in that color that isn't as hideous. She gives you a lingering kiss and stands, "That's for me."

You smile at her, "You go Tony Award Winner Rachel Berry."

She laughs and gives you another kiss, "You can say that more often if you want."

"Okay," you say as she walks to the door, "Break a leg Tony Award Winner-"

"And you're done," she calls over her shoulder before disappearing.

You lay back down on the couch and look up at the ceiling. You probably need to be running lines. You have all of your lines memorized, but that doesn't matter if your delivery sucks. You can also start panicking about money. You're bank account is slowly being drained and with no income as of late, you're on the fast track to mooching off of Rachel which you completely refuse to do. Or you can worry about this interview and the multiple ways that you can be painted in an unfavorable light. Then there's Brittany and Santana's wedding that is in a week or two (you'll have to ask your assistant) which is going to be in Lima.

You roll onto your side on the couch and yawn. All this panicking is making you tired. But before you can go to sleep your phone rings.

"Hey," Jenny says, "I got your text. I already called a few people back and they're definitely interested. What day did you want me to schedule them for?"

"Um…there's a day this week I don't have rehearsal," you rub your eyes, "It's uh…Tuesday. Schedule them for that day and make sure to get the specific apartments they want to see."

"Then I call the agent that listed it and have them meet you there?" she asks.

"Yeah."

"Awesome," she says, "I'll get on that first thing tomorrow."

"Thanks Jenny." You hang up and set your phone on the small table in front of the couch. You internally and sarcastically welcome yourself back into the world of real estate.

So when Tuesday arrives and you walk out of your room dressed in business clothes, Rachel looks at you questioningly from her place on the couch where she's under a blanket, reading a book, "Where are you going? I thought your rehearsal was cancelled today."

You pour yourself some coffee into a travel mug, "I am going to show an apartment."

She sets her coffee down and kicks her blanket off, "Why? I though this whole career change thing was…permanent."

"Workshopping is something can take years of working for almost nothing and traveling to promote. Little recognition and did I mention I'm not getting paid?" You lean on the counter as she approaches you.

"But I was going to-"

"No Rach. I love you and I am not going to live off of your fancy Broadway money. Besides you already pay my personal assistant who lined up these shows today. I have six so I have to go," you kiss her and grab your bag.

She sighs heavily, "Can I at least get a better kiss than that before you leave?"

You turn and you can see the disappointment in her face. You know that she probably wanted to spend the day with you shopping or spa hopping or just cuddling on the couch and there is no place you'd really rather be, but your resources are slowly dwindling and you're not at the stage in your relationship (if you ever will be) to accept someone else taking care of you.

You pull her to you and kiss her deeply, trying to apologize without actually saying it. Her body rests against yours and it makes it really hard for you to not to blow off all of your appointments today and stay.

"I love you," she wraps her arms around your shoulders in tight hug, "But you're going to make this up to me."

You laugh with her and pull back, placing a kiss on her forehead, "Of course. Let me know what kind of repayment you'd like when I get home."

You're reminded how much you hate real estate when you walk out of your sixth showing of the day. Jenny called earlier to let you know that she added one last appointment onto the end of your schedule. You're surprised at the location. You were sure that your dream apartment would have sold by now. You feel weird about walking back into the scene of your first date with Rachel, especially in the daylight.

You refamiliarize yourself with the apartment. The layout is absolutely perfect. The bathrooms are amazing. The bedroom is so spacious and you love that it's lofted. The second bedroom is small compared to the master suite, but the windows and bookshelves make up for it in your opinion.

You hear the front door open. "Hello?" a British accented voice calls, "Ms. Fabray?"

You make your way back into the living room and spot your client. However your client isn't a client. It's Rachel. "What are you doing here?"

"I am your four o'clock appointment," she grins, "So show me around."

You quirk an eyebrow at her. "Are you serious?"

"I am absolutely serious," she states with a straight face.

She's an amazing actress so you have no idea if she's really serious or not. You decide to play alone and start walking, "Well, as you can see the living room has a fabulous view of Central Park."

"How far away is it from the theatre that hosts the play starring Tony Award Winner Rachel Berry?" she asks, her face still stone cold serious.

You fend off a smile and think about the answer, "About five blocks."

"How many bedrooms?" she asks, looking up at the ceiling and back down the other side of the room.

"Two bedrooms, two bathrooms," you start walking again, "Up these stairs is the master bedroom with an en suite bathroom." It feels weird talking to Rachel like this, but when you glance behind you as you're walking up the stairs in front of her, you see that she's having a little trouble staying in character as well because her eyes are staring at your ass. When she sees you watching her she clears her throat, "Any termites or bad plumbing?"

"All the plumbing was replaced with the last remodel about five years ago," you explain, as you step off of the stairs into her master bedroom. "No termites."

She walks over to the railing, over looking the living room. You can see her eyes running over the treetops of the park through the windows in the living room, "Is the second bedroom big enough for a piano?"

You nod, eyeing her suspiciously. You don't know what she's getting at. If she's really interested in this place and wants to put the piano in the second bedroom, she either wants you to sleep with the piano or doesn't plan on bringing you with her.

After you complete the entire tour of the apartment, you lean back on the ledge in front of the ceiling high living room windows and cross your arms, "Rach, what's really going on?"

"Jake called me today and told me that our neighbors offered to buy us out of our apartment so that they could expand their apartment," she says, standing in the middle of the bare living room. "They offered ten thousand more than we paid for it."

"Than _you_ paid for it," you correct.

She rolls her eyes at you, frustrated, "I, we…it doesn't make a difference to me. What I'm getting at is that I want to move here."

You swallow and bow your head. It makes sense now, "And you want me to find somewhere else to live."

"Oh my god Quinn," Rachel huffs and throws her hands up in the air, "I want us to move in together. Like really move in together. I want us to sleep in the same bed every night. Even though we've pretty much been doing that anyway, I don't even want you to have the option of not sleeping with me."

Your mouth drops open. Wow you were you way off base. "So you want to live here?"

"If you still do," she softens and walks over to you, Her hands rest on your hips, "I think it would be pretty amazing to wake up in the morning and be able to see trees from our bedroom. I think it would be pretty amazing to wake up in _our_ bedroom."

You go over it in your head and find that if Rachel does sell your old apartment to the neighbors, that minus the recently reduced cost of this apartment will leave Rachel with a very nice chunk of change afterward.

"It's smaller than our apartment right now," you mention. Going from three bedrooms to two bedrooms will definitely force you both to get rid of a bunch of things.

She grins, "Like I said, no other options, but sleeping with me."

"Would you be okay here?" you ask, "Really? You can't buy it if you don't love it."

"I very much love it," she smiles and kisses you, "And I very much love you and I hope you will do me the honor of moving in with me."

You look at her hopeful eyes and can't help, but smile at her, "I would love to."

"Yay," she claps excitedly before nailing you against the window in a deep kiss. The cold glass on your back and the heat of her body against yours is a delicious contrast.

Before you can get too lost in it, her phone rings. She sighs and pulls it out of her pocket. She answer it quickly, "Hello?….oh my gosh I totally forgot. Thank you so much…I'll be right there."

"Forget something?" you ask with a smirk.

"My job," she grabs her purse and kisses you again, "Start the paper work. I want us moved in by the end of the week." She walks out of the apartment, leaving you to gape after her. After a few minute of processing a smile breaks out on your face. You push off of the window and pick up your purse. You look at your to-do list on your phone. Sell an apartment. Check. All that's left is your interview, Santana and Brittany's wedding, and now moving.

"Easy," you tell yourself as you lock up the apartment. Then you roll your eyes at yourself with a sigh. "I need a vacation."


	32. Chapter 32

"How did you and Rachel meet?" the interviewer asks.

You've met him in a coffee shop in the Village. His hair is tousled, but in a way you know takes hours. His eyebrows are manicured (and creeping you out) and the top two buttons of his shirt are unbuttoned. He's trying to make you comfortable by looking casual and making you think that he's not hiding a tie in his pocket that he's not going to put back on the second you leave.

"In high school," you state evenly, trying to make this formal and informational. You don't want anything you say to be able to be twisted. "More specifically glee club."

"Was it love at first sight?" he asks, attempting a smile. He seems bored.

Despite his obvious lack of interest you do find yourself smiling, remembering when you practiced this question with Rachel, "I didn't realize it at the time, but yeah it was. For me anyway."

"So what happened? Why didn't you get together in high school?" he asks.

You exhale, "I wasn't ready for…her. I wasn't really ready for me."

"High school wasn't easy for you though was it?" he asks, tilting his head to the side, showing a genuine interest for the first time.

You try to dodge the question and any questions about Beth by laughing, "Is it for anyone?"

He seems to sense this and moves with you as you dodge that bullet, "Well, how was your relationship with Rachel in high school?"

You pause to think about it for a moment before answering, "You know how little boys pick on girls they like?" You wait for his nod before adding, "It was like that. I was mean to her because I liked her and I didn't know how to deal with it."

"But apparently she's forgiven you for that?" he asks, looking down at his notes and adjusting the audio recorder.

"Thankfully," you smile. She has not only forgiven you, but fallen in love with you as well. That's quite a feeling.

"Did you keep up after high school?"

"No," you shake your head, "In fact there was no contact between us until we ran into each other in New York."

"That's lucky."

"Well not really lucky. I went to see one of her shows while I was in town for a real estate conference. She saw me when she came outside to sign autographs and we had drinks."

"What did you talk about that night?"

"We mostly talked about her. I hadn't done anything impressive since I'd last seen her," you sip your coffee. You really are ready to go. You have your dress fitting this afternoon and you're hoping to get in some Rachel time before that.

The rest of the interview was mundane. You told him about moving to New York and how you and Rachel entered into a relationship, leaving out some of the more scandalous and irrational action on both of your parts.

When you're finished, you stand together and he shakes your hand, "It was a pleasure. This should be up by tomorrow on our website and in print next week."

"Thank you," she smile politely and excuse yourself.

You get back to your apartment in record time. There are now boxes everywhere because you were nervous for your interview and couldn't sleep so you drug Rachel to the store in the middle of the night to get boxes. Virtually nothing is really unpack, but you couldn't care less. "Rachel?"

"Bedroom," she calls back.

You laugh and trot into her bedroom or what she's recently dubbed _our_ bedroom. When you get to your bedroom, you find a Rachel shaped lump under your old comforter. "You're still in bed?"

She peeks out from under the blankets, "Someone kept me up late last night."

You smirk and take off your coat, tossing it onto the bed, "I wanted to tell you about my interview, but you can go back to sleep. I'll call Jenny and we'll go grocery shopping."

"I'm up," she groans and sits up. Her hair is a complete mess, but you think she's a cute as ever. Her eyes are mostly closed. You almost feel bad using Rachel's jealousy over Jenny as a way to get her out of bed…almost.

You sit down on the bed where you normally sleep and lean over to kiss her awake. It doesn't take long for her to crawl on top of you and just lay there. She sleepily runs her fingers through your hair, "How'd your interview go?"

"It was okay," you state, "Probably better than okay because no one asked me about Beth or exactly how I was mean to you in high school." You like when she lays on you like this. She's warm and pressing against the entire length of your body.

"Good," she yawns and rests her head on your chest, "What is the plan for today?"

You smile down at her and rub her back, "You're going to go back to sleep and I'll…"

"Not go shopping with Jenny," Rachel rolls off of you and let's out another yawn, "Is there coffee?"

"Mhmm," you watch her stretch and stand out of the bed.

"Yay," she says, but there is no enthusiasm in her voice. She rubs her eyes and shuffles to the bathroom.

"You can go back to sleep and I won't go with Jenny," you smile at her petulance.

She peeks out from the bathroom with a toothbrush in her mouth, "I know you won't because you're going with me."

"You're going grocery shopping?" you ask. You try to remember a time someone talked about Rachel grocery shopping and you can't think of any. "When was the last time that happened?"

You hear the sink running and after a moment it turns off. She emerges from the bathroom looking more awake, "I…don't remember."

Before you know it, Rachel is pushing the cart through the isles of the store. Actually pushing is a little reaching. She's more like riding it. You're behind her with your hands on either side of the handle and she has her feet firmly planted on the metal cage on the bottom of the cart.

"You know this doesn't seem fair," you mention while she grabs a box of pasta as you roll by.

"I think this is a very efficient way to shop," she smiles back at you, "A couple more times of this and we could get our shopping done in ten minutes."

"You don't even know what you're getting," you smile and place one of your feet next to hers and push off. You easily glide down the near empty isle. She manages to grab your favorite chips and some vegan cookies without having to slow down.

You rest your chin on her shoulder and turn the corner, "We rock at this."

"Totally," she leans back into you, "After this do you want to go see a movie? It's been forever since I've been in an actual movie theatre."

"Rain check?" you ask, "I have my dress fitting."

"Oh yeah," Rachel wiggles a little and steps down. She pushes you onto the cart in her previous position before taking off again. "Can I go? I'm getting really good at taking your clothes off."

You gape at her for a moment before laughing, "You can come if you want to. Why haven't you been forced in to a hideous dress yet?"

"My dress is with Brittany's sister's dress and Noah's suit in Lima," She picks up a package of dried cranberries and examined the ingredients. She tosses them into the basket with a smile, "I sent my measurements ahead of me and we just have to hope it fits."

"Noah? Like Puckerman?" This is news to you. You never knew that he was going to be in the wedding.

"Yeah," Rachel nods, pulling the basket along with her down the frozen food isle, "You know how he and Brittany keep up with each other. I bet Santana blew a gasket."

You bet she did too. "Any idea who is in Santana's wedding party?"

"No idea," she answers, "Maybe some of her med school friends."

"She doesn't have any med school friends," you answer, "They're all threatened by her and she's been kinda reclusive since moving here."

She opens one of the freezer doors and picks up a frozen vegan dinner, "Did I like these?"

"No," you answer.

"Oh," she replaces it and closes the door, "Does she have sisters or cousins or something?"

"No siblings, but a shitload of cousins," you offer, "She kinda keeps up with her cousins. Through like Facebook and stuff. Maybe one of them."

Rachel stops dead in the middle of the isle and looks at you. You look her over for like a…you don't know what makes people freeze. "What's wrong?"

"What if Sue Sylvester is officiating it?" Rachel asks, her eyes locked onto yours.

You burst out laughing and lean into the basket for support. She crosses her arms and lets go of the basket. Because you're leaning on it, it goes rolling away and before you can grab it, it starts rolling away. Rachel takes off after it as it rolls out of the frozen food isle and toward a row of shelves housing chocolate syrup. You know if it hits, that chocolate syrups with fall onto the ground, probably bursting open and making the biggest mess, but the visual in your head just makes you laugh harder and you can't stop. Your girlfriend grabs the handle and plants her feet, stopping herself and the cart in the nick of time.

Rachel rolls her eyes, but can't help laughing with you. People are staring to stare at you so Rachel puts you back in your place at the front of the cart with one arm on either side of you. You step onto the bottom cage and she pushes you along, "We're never going grocery shopping again."

And she made sure of that by jumping onto the cart right before you checked out. She looked back at you with a kilowatt smile and crashed into a rack full of magazines.

You both were asked to never come back.

You're running late in meeting Santana so Rachel offers to put the groceries away and bring you coffee at the shop. When you meet Santana at the bridal shop, she's quite the opposite of how you pictured her. She's just sitting in a chair, calmly sipping from a coffee shop cup with a smile on her face. You sit down in the armchair next to her and follow her eyes to see what she's watching. You finally see why she's so chill. Her mom is running around, directing people on what dresses go where and how she wants the dress racks arranged.

"How long has your mom been in town?" you ask quietly.

"Only a few hours," Santana answers, tilting her head toward you, "Thanks for coming. My cousin should be here in a minute."

"Which one?" you ask.

"Craigan," she sips her drink and scratches her forehead, "My other bridesmaid is going to meet us there."

"Two questions," you lean back in your chair, "Who is your other bridesmaid and isn't Craigan the one who is completely in love with Brittany?"

"He is one of my many cousins who is completely in love with Britts, but he's the least pervy about it" Santana answers with a smirk, "and Mercedes."

"Mercedes Jones?" you ask, turning to look at your best friend.

She nods, "She Skyped me one day about a month ago with a few questions about Physical Anthropology and we started studying that together. My mom told me that I needed another girl to balance everything out. She was going to be in Lima that weekend anyway."

"Awesome," you nod. You're happy that Santana seems to have other friends besides you.

"How's your show going?" Santana lulls her head to look at you.

You shrug, "Okay I guess. My throat is getting sore from all the singing, even though I don't actually do much singing. We open in about a month. When does Britt's show open again?"

"The day after we get back from our honeymoon," Santana offers with a sigh, "I have a test that afternoon anyway." You hear her mutter something akin to _fucking school_.

You offer her a friendly pat on the arm when a glint catches your eye and you turn to her. You spot the silver band on her left hand, "Santana, ring."

She looks down at her hand and quickly glances at her mom as she slips off her ring, whispering to you, "I totally suck at this pretending not to be married thing."

"Definitely," you say, "Why don't you just both take off your rings until the wedding?"

"Do you know how awesome it is to see that ring on Brittany's finger everyday?" Santana asks, her gaze intense because you know she's trying not to be sappy, "It fucking rocks because she's stuck with me now."

"You make it sound like she doesn't want to be stuck with you," you roll your eyes. Of course that makes you think of a ring on Rachel's finger, which is way, way, way, waaaaaaay too soon. You just got divorced a few months ago. You don't want to be one of _those_ people. Whoever those people are. You're just now moving in together so it's safe to say that she's sort of stuck with you too. She went to great lengths (buying a new apartment and all) to make sure that you're close to her.

"Santana! Quinn!" Santana's mom calls you, beckoning you toward her.

She hands you a dress. You look it over with a thoughtful frown, "This dress is not hideous." In fact it's just the opposite. It's simple and elegant. A gorgeous shade of lilac.

Santana smirks, "I was just fucking with you."

You playfully push her, "I can't believe you." After a beat you rephrase, "Actually yes I can."

Once you and Santana are put in dressing rooms right next to each other, you shimmy out of your clothes and start to put the dress on. You find that the zipper is extremely difficult to zip. "Uh, San?"

"I'm having way more trouble than you are," she says back around the partition between you, "I can't even figure out where my head goes."

There's a light knock on the door and a pleasant voice asks, "Do you need assistance ma'am?"

You push the curtain back a little and allow Rachel to step in. She grins at you, but it soon turns into a pout, "I thought I was going to get to do the undressing part."

"Oh my god!" Santana calls, "I don't need to hear you two going at it in the dressing room. Please."

You blush deeply and Rachel just giggles. She hugs you around your waist. She stands on her toes to whisper in your ear, "I wish we had time to go to home before my show because I really, really want to _undress_ you right now."

"Rachel!" you whisper at her wide-eyed. You don't think you'll ever get used to dirty talk or sexual innuendos leaving her perfect lips. She always seems so…innocent. That is until you're both naked….well you don't really have to be naked either.

She just offers you a Cheshire grin and kisses you softly on the lips, "What did you need help with?"

You take a moment to give her an incredulous look before lifting your arm to show the zipper down your side. She easily and very innocently zips up your dress. She smiles at you, "You look beautiful Quinn."

"Oh god I'm gonna gag," you hear Santana spout.

"Shut up," you quickly bite back.

"Hey, it's my wedding. I could go all bridezilla on you and there's nothing you can do to stop me," your friend answers. You know she's joking. This is more her mom's wedding than her own and she doesn't care. She already married Brittany. She never did play fair.

"So Santana," Rachel holds the curtain open for you to walk out and show Mrs. Lopez, "What are your plans for the rest of today?"

"Britt and I are going to take our moms to our favorite museums," she says, "Then we're going to dinner. You two can totally come with us."

Mrs. Lopez starts looking you over turning you and looking the dress over.

"I was hoping to get some ideas from Brittany about her bachelorette party," Rachel offers as Santana emerges from the dressing room.

"A bachelorette party?" Santana raises an eyebrow.

Rachel's eyes dart to you and then back to Santana, "Traditionally the maid of honor throws a bachelorette party correct?"

"Of course," Mrs. Lopez nods, making her way to her daughter. She tugs at the fabric of the dress, "Have you been eating?"

"Just keep it clean got it?" Santana narrowed her eyes at Rachel.

Rachel nods. You're not worried because you don't think Rachel really does huge crazy bachelorette parties. "At least Puckerman's not in charge of it."

"He's not going is he?" Santana asks, anxiety edging her voice.

"Of course he is," you smile reassuringly at Santana, "He's a bridesmaid right?"

Santana laughs at this and it effectively puts her at ease.

"What do you want to do for your bachelorette party?" you finally ask. You didn't remember that you actually needed to plan a bachelorette party until Rachel said something.

Santana shrugs, "Do you mind if we wait until we get to Lima? I want 'Cedes to come too."

"Of course," you nod, "We can just go get a drink somewhere. No big deal."

"Hey ladies," Craigan walks in, "Sorry I'm late."

You've met him before once or twice at various Lopez family functions. Of course that was when you were all teenagers. Now is a strapping man with unruly, curly brown hair and a chiseled face. His dark, skin was flawless against the soft lights of the boutique.

"Craigan," Mrs. Lopez walks over and hugs him, "How are you?"

"Great," he smiles.

You tilt your head and wonder how everyone in Santana's family is so hot. Not that you're calling Santana hot, or her mom or dad…okay, you wonder how everyone in Santana's family is so beautiful. Attractive?…this is going downhill fast.

"Quinn," he smiles and hugs you, "It's been forever. How are you?"

"Fantastic," you answer with a polite smile.

He turns to Rachel and gives her a friendly hug then laughs, "I probably should have introduced myself before I hugged you. I'm Craigan Wagner, Santana's cousin."

"Rachel Berry," she grins back at him, "Brittany's maid of honor."

He looks at her for a moment, "You're not _the_ Rachel Berry are you?"

"Well I am _a_ Rachel Berry," she shrugs modestly.

You know the modesty thing is just an act though so you slide up next to her and put your arm around her shoulders, "Craigan this is Tony Award winner Rachel Berry."

Rachel beams and Craigan starts gushing over her. Santana gives you a sympathetic smile before you're both sent back into the dressing rooms to change.

You all wait around as Craigan tries on his suit. It doesn't take long and he does look dashing in it. He leaves everyone with a hug and says that he's going to meet you all in Lima. You tell him that you'll call him about the bachelor party.

It's not long before you and Rachel are strolling behind Brittany and Santana in the Guggenheim. Your arms are linked as you both look up and down the walls. Rachel's head is on your shoulder and she inhales deeply, "I can't wait until your show starts."

"I wish you could be there on opening night," you sigh.

"Actually," she stops and looks at you, "I will be."

"But you have a show," you look at her skeptically. In your mind you picture some kind of rom-com standard where she's running from one show to the other, acting until her scenes are over and then running to your theatre to watch what she can before running back.

She bites her lip, "I am calling upon the services of my," she mutters something inaudible, "so that I can support you."

"What?" it takes you a moment but you manage to fill in the blank on your own. "You're letting your understudy-"

"Shhh," she clamps a hand over your mouth, "Don't say that word."

You pull her to you in a bone-crushing hug, "You'd do that for me?"

"Of course," she relaxes in your arms, "It's your first play. Ever. I want to see the beginning of your ridiculously successful career."

You smile and just hold her to you. "You're awesome Rach."

"You're pretty awesome too."

"Get a room," Santana calls.

You shoot her a playful glare at her snarky smile before Brittany takes her hand and drags her to the next exhibit. Rachel takes your hand and laces your fingers together, guiding you deeper into the museum.


	33. Chapter 33

The text message was short. 'Look Q we're dating' and attached was a link.

The headline read: Budding Off-Broadway Actress Quinn Fabray seen out with Broadway Choreographer. The two were seen laughing chatting and holding hands in an uptown restaurant earlier this week.

You sigh and lay your head on the table. Before this relationship started the media was convinced that you were using Rachel. Now they're convinced that you're cheating on her with Brittany.

Rachel sweeps into the kitchen and grabs a bagel, "What's wrong?" She plops down next to you and places a sweet kiss on the back of your neck.

You turn your phone around so you can read the article. She pulls away with a smile, "That's a good picture of you and Brittany."

"That doesn't bother you?"

"No. I know you're not cheating on me especially with Brittany," She takes a bite of her bagel and looks at you questioningly, "Why does it bother you so much?"

"I don't-" you pick your head up, "I just don't want any of this to cause problems between us."

She shrugs, "It won't unless we let it."

You sigh again and watch her pick at her food, "Why does everyone think I'm using you? And cheating on you for that matter? Why haven't you been accused of cheating on me yet?"

She grins, "Do you want me to go have lunch with Santana and hold her hand?"

You roll your eyes, "I'd like to see you try." Santana's not the holding hands type except for Brittany.

"You're new to the media's attention. You're beautiful and you're dating an established actress. What would you think?" She leans on the table and looks you over.

When she says it that way…"Probably the same thing but how do I make it stop?"

She shrugs, "Maybe another interview. We could do one together."

"If you think it'll help."

Her eyes light up. You know she loves people asking her questions and taking pictures. She was born for this. You were just born to carry her purse and follow her around.

Before you can ask her if she really wants to, she's on the phone with Kathy arranging everything. Things happen fast at the top. She tells you when it is and you tell her to tell your personal assistant.

"Don't worry about a think we're going to Lima for the wedding in a few days and then we'll go back two weeks later for Christmakkuh," Rachel kisses you cheek before she disappears into her room.

And it's easy because your next few days are eaten up by rehearsals and before you know it, you're in one of the only decent bars in Lima having a quiet drink with Santana, Craigan and Mercedes for her bachelorette party.

The party was calm and fun but the next day doesn't go so well. "I swear to fucking god," Santana is pacing around the room like she's plotting something. Knowing her she probably is.

You stick your head out the door and grab Finn as he's walking by, "Hey, have you seen Rachel or Brittany or Puck or even Britt's sister?"

He looks at you with a helpless smile, "No, sorry. You don't think Brittany….ran off did you?"

"No," you shake your head and glance down the hallway. If it had been anyone else? Probably. But Brittany? Not a chance. They're already married anyway. It's not like this was a life-changing thing any way. It was just like elementary school when they could get pretend married because Brittany would cry until Santana went along with it. You glance down the hallway, "Just can you let me know if you see them. Santana starting to get pissed."

He nods, "Yeah, no problem." He offers you a reassuring smile, "I'm sure they're just stuck in traffic."

"In Lima?" you quirk an eyebrow.

He chuckles and shrugs, "I guess you're right. I'll let you know."

You step back inside and close the door. Santana, Mercedes, and Craigan are looking at you and you get a little nervous. You rub the back of your neck and check your phone. You've sent Rachel at least half a dozen texts and you've gotten no reply yet. "Sorry."

Santana lets out something akin to a growl and your eyes get wide. You move to her and stand in front of her, "What's wrong?"

"I'm just worried," Santana sighs, tapping her foot, "This wedding doesn't mean shit to me. It's for our moms. I'm just…what if something is wrong."

You nod. You've been thinking the same thing. Your mind has gone through car crash, axe murderer, hit by a train, drowning (where? You don't know. Anywhere with water. Beach, pool, toilet?), anything and everything that could happen, you've thought of because it's never taken Rachel this long to respond to anything you've sent her.

"I'm sure they're fine guys," Mercedes walks over to Santana and pulls her into his arms, "You know Brittany. They probably stopped to help a family of turtles cross a highway."

Santana chuckles at that and nods, "Probably."

"It's Lima fucking Ohio," Santana is now storming around the bridal room, "Where the fuck are they? I swear to god if your girlfriend let anything happen to my wife I'll kill her."

You check your phone again and wring your hands. Normally punctual Rachel is over an hour late.

You look at Mercedes and shoot her a panicked glance. That doesn't make you feel any better. You start to think of all the hospitals in the area to start calling when you hear a car screech to a stop outside. Car doors immediately start slamming and you hear the side door of the church burst open.

You run to the door and pull it open in time to see Brittany, Puck, Brittany's sister, and Rachel sprinting inside and down the hall. They're all smiling and laughing, stumbling over each other to get into the room.

"Rachel!" you bark, not really meaning to sound that harsh.

She stops in the middle of the hallway and turns to you with an unsure smile. "I'm so sorry. We had a little delay."

"You're over an hour late," this time her smile wasn't going to get her out of trouble. You were worried and Santana was worried and one of you worried is bad enough but both of you…if they'd have been gone any longer you two would have been so anxious your vibrations would have caused tsunamis across the world.

"I know. I'm sorry," her smile fades.

"Rachel!" Brittany calls, "I need help."

"I gotta go," she looks at you earnestly and kisses you, "I'll apologize to Santana and make it up to both of you."

"Is that glitter?" you ask brushing off her shoulder.

"Yes and I know what you're thinking it's not from a... Well it is from a stripper but we weren't in a strip club."

You blink and shake your head, "Just make sure Brittany is dressed and has no glitter on her. Santana will freak."

She nods with a smile, "Got it." She kisses you, "Love you."

The relief you feel is unreal. You close the door and fall back on it, "They're here."

"Fucking shit," Santana lets out a breath. "Awesome. Someone find me a bottle of vodka."

After a toast in the bridal suite, the wedding begins.

You walk with Rachel up the isle, Mercedes walks with Brittany's sister and Puck walks with Craigan. You don't know how all of this happened, but you don't mind because you get to be with Rachel all the way down. When you look over at her you have to contain a laugh. She looks just like she's on the red carpet, smiling at all the people and occasionally waving.

You spot Lauren in the crowd, but her eyes on her on man who with smiling. Then you see Sam smiling at his woman. It amazes you how you all paired off. You guess the only people left that didn't get together with a fellow glee member are Finn and Mike. Somehow you don't think that would work out.

You take your place and watch Brittany and Santana walk down opposite ends of the church. You feel very proud of both of them. This wedding isn't very 'them', but getting secretly married before their wedding is.

Then they meet in the middle they both smile and stand in front of the priest. He starts talking so naturally Santana starts a conversation. "You're late." Santana whispers to Brittany as the priest drones on.

Brittany smiles playfully, "Sorry, long layover."

"Long layover where?" you interject with glance at Rachel.

Rachel answers from behind Brittany, "Arizona."

"Where did you go?" Santana's eyes shift to Rachel.

"Vegas." Her face is covered with a guilty smile.

Puck grins, "It was epic."

Rachel elbows him in the ribs, "Not helping Puckerman."

You all get quiet when you see the priest is looking at the lot of you waiting for you to finish your conversation. With a kind smile he nods and continues.

The service is short and painless. You have a feeling that Brittany and Santana's moms sat down with him and explained that they have a problem keeping their hands to themselves and they don't care if they're in public or in front of a bunch of people.

"So what happened in Vegas?" you ask, Rachel's arm securely locks around yours as you walk out of the church.

"We just trolled the strip and went to a few clubs. Oh and I won ten thousand dollars on a slot machine so when this wedding is over we're flying back to Vegas because I left my purse, with my phone in it, in the room they comped me." She grins at you before kissing you. "Sorry we worried you. We were all hanging out the night of the party and Brittany's sister said Vegas, Noah said hell yeah and Brittany said why not?"

"So you hopped a plane?" you ask with a quirked eyebrow.

"So we hopped a plane," she nods as you stand in the hallway waiting for the rest of the bridal parties to join you, "I would have called you, but I thought you might be sleeping then time just sort of melted together."

"How did you get Brittany's sister into a casino?"

"The fun thing about Cheerios is that most of them have fake IDs," Rachel answers with an accusatory look, "She didn't drink or anything I promise. I was scared that she has the same problem Brittany does when she drinks and turns into a stripper and that would have been awkward and probably illegal."

"Speaking of strippers…" you trail off ominously.

"The glitter was from a stripper, but it was because I hugged her," you mouth drops open and she turns to furious shade of red as Mercedes and Brittany's sister appear. "We ran into this stripper…"

"Oh my god," Lil' B grins, "I got this story Rach." She turns to you, "So we're just walking along the strip and there are these girls dancing on this bar that's right on the sidewalk. Puck buys this huge margarita, I mean it's like one of those yard stick ones. Anyway, he drops his straw and Rachel won't let him pick it up off of the ground and use to so she and Brittany go into the closest door to us, which is a casino." You glance at Rachel who is still blushing profusely.

"Oh are you telling the shoe story?" Puck asks appearing with Craigan at his side, "You have got to hear this?"

"It's not a big deal," Rachel says trying to herd everyone to the side as Mercedes and Brittany's sister appear, "I just helped a stripper who fell off of her stage and somehow ended up with her shoe and her…erm…bra."

"Why did she hug you?" you ask quirking an eyebrow. You're not jealous, just curious.

"She had dinner with us," Puck piped up, "Then she took us to this rad club where it's freezing in there and they hand out parkas at the door and everything is made of ice."

"I'm totally jealous," Santana pouts drawing your attention to her.

"Oh please," you roll your eyes, "Your honeymoon is going to be a million times better than Vegas."

Santana looks at Brittany, "Where are we going?"

The blonde just smiles and kisses her, "I promised not to tell."

"Brittany!" Santana pouts.

You loud and loop your arm in Rachel's. She rests her head on your shoulder and you say, "Well, I'm glad we're going back to Vegas. I want to meet this stripper."

"She's actually really nice," Rachel explains, "I think you'll like her. And just to clarify, she is no threat to you. She was actually very taken with Noah who rebuffed her constantly because his heart now belongs to another."

"Fuck yeah it does," Puck smirks trying to still look tough while being completely whipped.

"Alright you guys," Mercedes laughs, "I'm going to go find Sam. I'll see you at the reception."

Puck nods, "Open bar?"

"Of course," Brittany grins.

Puck looks at Rachel, "Don't forget to get my pirate hat from the room."

"I won't," Rachel laughs.

You feel completely lost, but you're sure they had fun. You wonder what the paparazzi are going to make of the pictures you're sure they got in Vegas. You look at her and find her smiling at you. She kisses you softly and pulls your bottom lip between your teeth.

You stifle a moan and pull away before she can do anymore. She leans forward and whispers in your ear, "Remember when I said I would make it up to you for being late?"

"Mhmm," you have a feeling you know where this is going and there's no way you're going to stop it.

"Meet me in Brittany's bridal suite in three minutes," she whispers and gives you a kiss on the cheek, disappearing in the swarm of people that just walked out of the church.

You make sure Brittany and Santana get outside before slipping into the bridal suite. Your eyes nearly bug out when you see the heavenly, glorious…mouthwatering sight before you.

Rachel's wearing a sexy, cocky smirk with matching lilac lingerie. There's nothing that could have stopped you from marching across that room and sweeping up her and her insane sexiness in your arms.

She breaks away from the heated kiss to nip at your jaw and unzip your dress. "I missed you."

"It was only two days," you breathe. Your hands easily find their way into her hair as she follows your dresses path down to the floor.

"Oh god it's been that long?" she asks, running her tongue down your stomach in a blazing line. Her eyes twinkle when she looks back up at you, "I guess we need to make up for lost time."


	34. Chapter 34

At thirty five thousand feet, you lean back in your seat. You said goodbye to Brittany and Santana at the airport before they took off for Italy. You're ridiculously tired so you look next to you to see if Rachel is as tired as you are.

She's flipping through a magazine that she got at the airport. You wonder how long it will take for her to read the interview she did for that magazine and trade it for the Sky Mall in front of her. It was a short interview. You know because you bought that magazine the day it came out.

You lean over and kiss the side of her head. She lets out a content smile and rests her head on your shoulder. "You should get some sleep. I can see that you're tired and Noah told me that I'm the most fun person he's ever taken to Vegas."

"Fuck yeah she is," Puck leans forward from his seat behind you, "Of course I've never been to Vegas with my girl." He looks next to him at Lauren who is searching through her iPod. You glance across the aisle at Mercedes and Sam then behind them at Finn and Mike. You don't know how your return trip to Vegas to get Rachel's purse and phone became a glee club venture.

"I bet you are," you rest your head on hers. "Where are we staying?"

"Bellagio," she answers, "They gave me a choice of having an Executive Suite overlooking the mountains or a regular suite facing the fountains." She sits up and grins, "The fountains play 'One' from _A Chorus Line_. It was an easy choice."

You shake your head and smile. She just so…Rachel. You check behind you and ask Puck, "Mind if I recline my seat?"

"Nah," he shakes his head, "You're good."

You lean it back a little bit and as you lean back, Rachel lays her head on your chest. "What do you want to do in Vegas? Drinking and gambling are a given. If you really want to you can go into the largest strip club in the world, but I'll we outside with you."

"You can Puckerman can go in," Lauren adds to you, look at you in between the seats, "I'll take the midget with me to steal another pirate hat."

"You can have mine," Puck offers her.

Your eyes nearly bug out. God he is so whipped. Although when Rachel picks up your arm and puts it around herself you figure that you don't have any room to call anyone else whipped.

She smirks, "It's not so much about the having the hat as stealing one."

Puck smiles and looks to you, "You can go in the strip club with Hudson and Chang. We're going to steal a pirate hat."

You look at Rachel questioningly, "Steal a pirate hat from where?"

"Well…" her cheeks tint pink and she bites her bottom lip, "Brittany and her sister were watching the pirate show on Treasure Island and Noah who was slightly intoxicated said that he wanted a pirate hat. But not the ones from the souvenir shop. He wanted one of the ones that the pirate was wearing. I got distracted but Brittany and Noah managed to get aboard the ship. Brittany was dancing long with the characters who didn't seem to notice she wasn't one of them even though she was wearing a very modern green dress. Noah snuck up behind one of the pirates and took his hat then ran off of the ship. Brittany ran after him and we all took off down the street. Luckily the actors adhere to the strict 'The show must go on' mantra and no one followed us."

You're speechless. That's not really something you picture Rachel doing, but you guess that Vegas has that effect on people. You're actually looking forward to seeing this wild child inside of your girlfriend.

She grins at you and gives you a kiss, "Have you ever been to Vegas Quinn?"

You nod. "The Cheerios went one time, but we were competing and underage so it wasn't really fun."

"Well this time," she glances behind her at Puck, "Will be the most memorable time yet."

"I don't know," you take her challenge with a smirk, "Vegas was where Santana pantsed Brittany on national television."

"What was it with you Cheerios and being mean to people you liked?" Lauren asks.

You shrug. It does actually seem like you and Santana were both stuck on the emotional level of a five year old boy for a while. She advanced faster than you did, moving on to thirteen year old boy with all the groping and making out she and Brittany did in the hallway at school during your senior year.

You glance out at the endless desert under you and look back at Rachel, "Are you sure that you didn't want to go to Italy instead?"

"Can you do anything without Brittany and Santana?" Mercedes asks playfully from her seat.

"I think Quinn and Santana's codependence is charming," Rachel defends you, albeit weakly.

"I am not codependence on Santana," you also defend yourself weakly.

Rachel looks at you with a get serious eyebrow, "Who were you texting for thirty minutes while we were waiting to board our plane?"

You pause for a moment before yawning as you answer in a weak attempt to cover up that you did just say Santana.

"It's okay," Mercedes reached across the aisle and puts her hand on your arm, "She's been your best friend since I can remember. We all went to the same elementary school. Then you got pissed at her in middle school because she had a new blonde lady in her life."

"I was not pissed," you defend again.

Rachel again uses her very expressive expressions to agree with Mercedes. "Quinn."

You sigh," Fine I was mad at her now I'm not. Brittany's like my sister and-"

"No one is accusing you of not liking Brittany and we all know that it's in the past," Rachel nudges you with her arm, "We're just messing with you."

You feel a little foolish for taking the defensive so quickly. It is in the past you and you that everyone knows you love Brittany because who can't not love Brittany?

"You can tell me if I need to stop saying this, but I feel like I'm buggin' when I see you guys kiss and stuff," Mercedes says. She looks behind her at Finn who is acting as a giant human pillow for Mike who fell asleep on his wide shoulder.

Finn gives you an understanding smile, "It was a little weird at first, but it's nice. You guys like…fit."

"Thank you Finn," Rachel smiles back at him. She looks at you with her loving eyes and you completely melt in your seat.

The captain announces that you're landing and you have to put your seat up. The descent is a little choppy and the vice grip Rachel has on your hand is starting to hurt. So you decide to distract her a little bit. "Rach," you whisper into her ear.

She turns and looks at you, questioningly and panicking. You dip your head down and capture her lips. Your force surprises her and she lets out a light gasp before losing herself in the kiss.

You don't immediately register Puck clearing his throat next to you, but Rachel seems to. She leans back with a smile, giving you one last peck, "Thanks Quinn."

"No problem," you smile at her.

You take a very interesting cab ride to the hotel. When you say interesting you mean terrifying. And you thought cabbies in New York were bad. You're pretty sure that Mike fell out of the van and kissed the ground.

Everyone gathers in Rachel's free room with the very little luggage everyone brought. For you it was your purse. "Alright so what's the plan?"

"Uh it's Vegas. Drink and gamble."

"And strippers," Mike adds.

Finn smiles his perverted grin, "Lots of strippers."

Rachel and Mercedes roll their eyes and Puck and Sam try to suppress a grin.

"Hey," Lauren looks up from her phone, "It says right there that there's a 7000 square foot strip club like a block from here."

"Okay," Rachel claps her hands together taking charge like you're all sitting in the choir room again, "The boys and whatever girls want to go," she glances at you, "Head to Sapphire. The women that don't want to go will walk the strip until we find something to do."

"Where are we meeting afterward?" Finn asks.

Rachel picks up her phone and looks at it for a moment before answering, "Whitney gets off at ten so we can all meet up then at the Imperial Palace."

"Who is Whitney?" you quirk an eyebrow.

"Rachel's stripper friend," Puck loops his arm around your shoulders, "Let's get out of here. It's Vegas and I'm getting bored."

"Hold on," you plant your feet to stop him from leading you to the door, "I'm not going with the guys."

"It's okay Quinn," Rachel assures you.

You shake your head, "Why would I want to look at naked women?"

"Because it's a bonding experience," Puck states. He looks back at Lauren, "When we went to that strip club what did we do that whole time?"

"We played are they fake or not," Lauren smirks, "And by the by won. I know the difference between some sand bags and the real deal. Ya know that I'm sayin'?" Puck gave Lauren a high five then a quick kiss.

"So men and Quinn," Puck announces, "Let's go."

You have no idea how Puck and Finn talked you into going to the strip club instead of drinking with the girls, but you can't say that it's all that bad. The drinks here are good and the strippers aren't all that terrible to look at. You can't say you're turned on very much because so far in your life you've only been turned on by one person.

"Having fun?" Finn asks, setting a drink in front of you.

You nod and look up at the stripper right in front of you, "I like her shoes."

He laughs, "You're such a girl."

"You'd think after five years of marriage you would have figured that out sooner," you playfully bump shoulders with him.

"Hey," Puck appears behind you, putting his hands on your shoulders, "Me and Mike got us a sweet VIP booth. C'mon."

You and Finn follow him to a booth in the back. "How did you do that?" Finn asks.

"I showed the manager my badass biceps and Mike showed her his abs," he states.

You slide into the booth between Sam and Puck. It's a crescent shape with a small stage with a pole in the middle. You finish off your drink and Mike runs off to get more. Her returns and you all toast. To what you don't know, but it's fun.

"Hey," you look around at the guys, "Where are the strippers?" You gesture to the pole in the middle of you.

It's like you said a magic word because two girls appear at the opening to the booth and step up onto the stage. One of them is blonde and the other a brunette. They're wearing heels that hurt _your_ feet and you're not even wearing them.

After a few minutes of watching them dance you decide that the blonde got her outfit from Victoria's Secret and the other one had to get it from a department store of some kind. You're usually really good to knowing where clothes come from. So you squint your eyes and tilt your head. You catch sight of a tag of the brunette's clothes. "Damn," you whisper to yourself. Not a department store. Frederick's. You should have known.

"Is this doing anything for you?" Sam leans over and asks you, his eyes never leaving the strippers.

You shake your head, "Not really."

"Maybe a lap dance will," Puck holds up a fifty and points to you.

You're completely mortified when the stripper steps from the stage and starts to give you a lap dance. The glitter on her skin shimmers as she moves and you can smell her perfume. "Are you wearing Enchanting?"

The stripper looks at you for a moment like you're nuts before smiling, "Yeah. Do you wear it to?"

"No, but my girlfriend is kinda in love with Celine Dion so if Celine endorses something I tend to know," you explain like she's a stranger in a coffee shop and not giving you a lap dance, "Do those shoes hurt?"

"Like hell," she answers grinning at you.

You continue the conversation for a few minutes until she was done which you didn't really notice to begin with. Finn's looking at you with an amused smirk. Puck rolls his eyes and Sam and Mike are laughing.

"What?" you ask them.

"You're supposed to stare and drool," Sam puts his arms around you, "Not become her best friend."

You chuckle a little a nod, "Sorry, but you guys have no idea how sexy Rachel is when she wants to be. This all," you gesture to the club, "Does nothing for me."

"I hear ya," Sam nods. Puck seems to agree as well.

Finn and Mike also look kinda bored. Mike shrugs, "How about we go do some gambling before we meet up with the girls since no one really seems interested in this?"

You all agree and not long after you're standing at a craps table between Finn and Mike. Mike has his arm around you, deciding that you're his lucky charm because when he put it there he started winning. You smile as you look around the table. You consider all these guys your brothers. You always kinda wanted a brother because in high school Frannie cried a lot over boys or whatever and you just wanted someone who wouldn't cry. Also having someone who would protect you wouldn't have hurt either. Anyway, even though you were married to one of them and had the other one's baby, now these are your brothers.

Mike wins a surprising amount of money and buys everyone one of those giant yard long margaritas. You all stop outside the Pink Flamingo so that Finn and Mike can go to the bathroom and grab another drink. You're absently sipping your drink. You're looking up and down the strip at all the signs as the sun's going down. You feel a little weird because you watched the sun start to set at the airport in Lima before chasing the sun all the way back up, but you can't wait until it's dark. You love bright lights against the night.

Some guy grabbing your ass brings you out of your thoughts. You turn around and shove him away. He looks like a drunken frat guy, "What the fuck?" you demand.

Puck and Sam are immediately at your side, Puck with a hand on your shoulder, "What happened?"

"I was just having some fun," the guys shrugs, then he looks to you with glassy eyes, "Nice ass."

Before you can say anything, Puck flies at the guy, hitting him one on the cheekbone. The frat guy falls to the ground with a thud.

"What happened?" Finn asks, as he and Mike trot up behind you.

"He grabbed Quinn's ass," Sam answers, looking at angry as Puck.

Finn starts to move in on the guy that's scrambling to get up. You grab his arm with one hand and Puck's with the other, "Stop."

They both look at you and then behind you at the retreating guy. You pat them both on the chest as they calm down, "I appreciate it, but I don't want to have to bail anyone out of jail."

They both nod and Mike asks, "Are you okay?"

You nod with a smile, "I'm fine. He just grabbed my ass. Not a big deal."

"It is a big deal," Sam states and you can see his eyes scanning the crowd for the guy.

"Okay, it is a big deal, but Puck hit the guy to the ground so I don't think he'll be doing it to anyone else anytime soon," you smile and pick up Puck's right hand. The skin is broken over his knuckles and a tiny trickle of blood makes its way out, "Are you okay?"

"Of course," he takes his hand back.

Sam bends his knees a little in front of you, "M'lady."

You smile and hop onto his back. You sip your drink as you decide to look for the next place to win some money.

"There," you point with your drink, "Let's go in there." If you're completely honest with yourself, it looks just like a place where Rachel would be and that's why you want to go there.

Inside, you slide off of Sam's back and straighten out your dress. With a quick look around, you see a slot machine that's calling you. You walk over to it and sit down in the seat.

"Fancy meeting you here," a familiar voice says from the slot machine next to you.

You fight a smile and answer, "I know right?"

Rachel leans over in her chair and brushes off your shoulder. "You got glitter all over you."

"Puck bought me a lap dance," you say feeling a little guilty. You look over at her and remove her pirate hat, placing it on your own head, "You stole another one?"

"To be fair Lauren stole it," she grins widely at you before pushing the hat up a little on your head so that she can kiss you.

"Hey guys," Mike walks up to you and Rachel, "We're going to get something to eat? Wanna come?"

"Definitely," Rachel stands up and takes your hand. She presses one last button on the machine, "Let me just use this last dollar on here."

You all watch the machine spin around before stopping. You laugh and shake your head.

Rachel prints out her ticket for five hundred dollars, "It looks like I'm buying dinner."

You all congregate at a restaurant sharing stories of what you did while apart. When Rachel hears about the guy grabbing your ass, she puts a protective arm around you, completely incensed. Lauren kisses Puck when you explain that Puck defended your honor and Sam got one from Mercedes for carrying you around chivalrously.

"Shall we?" Rachel asks offering you her arm after she paid for dinner, "Whitney just texted me."

You take her arm and kiss her cheek, "Let's do this."

She smiles at you and leads the way out of the restaurant. The second you step outside though there are flash bulbs everywhere.

You look at Puck who is moving forward, but before he can, Lauren steps between you and the cameras, "Move along. Nothing to see." She makes some mean faces and gets most of the photographers to leave.

"Holy crap," Sam blinks rapidly trying to get the white orb out of his eyes just like you and everyone else, "Does that happen to you guys a lot?"

"Yeah," Rachel nods, "You get used to the flashes." She kisses both of your eyelids before quietly asking, "You okay?"

You nod and then let out a sigh, "I wonder how long they've known we were here."

She shrugs, "Let's not worry about it. Let's have fun. Now c'mon. Whitney is waiting on us." She turns around and grins, "Thank you so much Lauren."

"No problem," Lauren nods.

"That was so hot," Puck leans in and kisses Lauren.

You laugh and lace your fingers with Rachel's. "So let's go meet your stripper friend."

She smiles and nods, "I'm sure you're going to be great friends. You seem to like strippers judging by the amount of glitter on you."

Your mouth drops open and she just laughs, pulling you behind her.


	35. Chapter 35

Whitney doesn't look like a stripper to you. Of course she's wearing clothes now. But her long auburn hair falls around her shoulders in gentle curls and she's dressed in black tights, a long green shirt with a tan jacket.

"Rachel!" she smiles brightly and hugs your girlfriend.

Rachel pulls away with a similar grin. Puck hugs her before Rachel introduces everyone. "Whitney these are my friends Mike, Finn, Sam, Mercedes," she pauses, " You know Noah."

"And you must be Lauren," Whitney smiles at the girl at Puck's side. She extends her hand to shake Lauren who looks her over before taking it. "Noah talked about you constantly yesterday." With that Lauren grins and gives Whitney and Puck an approving nod.

Rachel walks up next to you and wraps her arms around your middle, "And this is my Quinn."

"Awww," Whitney coos and shakes your hand, "You look just like the fifty pictures Rachel showed me of you."

You blush and glance down at your girlfriend. She just grins innocently back up at you.

"So," Rachel once again gathers everyone's attention, "Are we going to a club or a bar or what?"

"Why don't we get some drinks and then walk around for a while?" Sam shrugs.

Whitney looks to Rachel who nods, "Any suggestions?"

The stripper smiles, "I know just the place."

You're standing at the railing of the Voodoo Lounge overlooking the strip. This rooftop bar is better than any place you could have come up with. Mike is standing next to you and you're both just looking at the lights.

"Where's your girlfriend?" you ask. It's something you've been wondering since the wedding when he showed up alone.

He shrugs, "Don't have one."

You turn toward him and ask with a smile, "Abulous Mike Chang doesn't have a girlfriend?"

He chuckles, "Not right now." He runs his hand over his hair, "It's not a big deal." He tips back his glass and finishes off his drink.

"If it makes you feel any better, if I was still completely in denial about my feelings for Rachel, I'd go out with you," you offer.

He loops his arm around you and squeezes your shoulders, "You know if I wasn't so scared of you in high school, I would have asked you out."

You laugh, "I guess I was pretty cool when I wasn't crying or yelling at people." You rest your head on his shoulder. His body is hard against yours. After a minute of just watching the lights against the black desert sky you add, "Why don't you go for it with Whitney? She's pretty and smart."

He nods, "I would, but there's this girl I've been checking out."

"Hmm?" you pull away and look at him, "Who?"

"Well I went to high school with her," he puts his hand out at about his shoulder level, "She's about this tall with brown hair and is super bossy."

"I will throw you off this roof if you are talking about Rachel," you state with a fake threat. You know he's just messing with you.

"Nah, I'm just messing with you," he shakes his empty glass like something will appear in it if he does. "I'm really happy for you two though."

"Thanks," you contently sigh.

He excuses himself to get another drink leaving you with your thoughts. You look down at your empty glass. Vodka always makes you think more than you'd generally like, but now the thinking isn't so bad. Life is good. Who are you kidding? Life is great. You have Rachel. You have a career that you don't hate. You live in the best city in the world in your dream apartment with a view of Central Park.

"Hey gorgeous."

The words against your ear mingle with the cool air around you. You close your eyes as the familiar arms hold your waist. Her chin rests on your shoulder and she looks out over the city with you. "What are you thinking about over here by yourself?"

You shrug. If you actually tell her the mood of the night would shift. You want to keep it fun for now. Later when you're in bed with her and you two are alone, you can tell her that she's the best thing that ever happened to you. That you're amazed and so, so thankful that she saw you across the street after you saw her show for the first time. "Nothing," is what you say instead, "Just taking in the sights."

She kisses your cheek, "Are you tired? You look tired."

You shake your head even though you'd fall asleep in seconds if you laid down right now.

"Liar," she chuckles and hugs you tighter, "It gets cold out her in the desert huh?"

"Yeah," you sigh against her, "Who needs an ice bar?"

She lets go of your waist and leans against the railing next to you. You know that it's sturdy and concrete, but her leaning on it makes you nervous. You slip your hand behind her, making sure that if something does happen, you have her. She seems to know what you just did and pushes off of the railing, her mouth colliding with yours.

"Are you sure you don't want to go back to the room?" her arms slip under your jacket and wrap around your waist. You can feel her fingertips dancing up and down your back, trying to entice you into going back to the Bellagio to engage in some X-rated acts.

You glance over her shoulder at Sam and Mercedes who were dancing on the empty dance floor to some kind of faint techno something. Puck and Lauren were leaning close together, their eyes on a group of people. They were snickering together, but still cuddled really close. When you see Finn you smirk and shake your head. Perhaps you need to remind him about not doing his dinosaur impressions in public. Mike is laughing with Whitney as Finn continues so you guess that makes it okay.

Before you can answer Rachel, your phone vibrates in your pocket. Rachel looks at you questioning as you look at the screen. You shoot her a grin before opening the picture message, "It's my codependent."

She laughs and looks at the screen with you, her cheek pressed against your own. She gasps when she sees the picture, "Oh Quinn, it's gorgeous." It was a picture of the beach with the sun rising from the water. You're sure Santana took this picture because Brittany is standing ankle deep in the water, watching the sunrise, oblivious to the camera. "She looks beautiful."

You agree and write back that you both think she's beautiful and you wish you could see it for yourself. Then you pocket your phone and look at Rachel. She's got that adoring smile on your face that makes you instantly weak in the knees.

When her lips connect with yours, you slip your arms around her neck for support because she catches you off guard. Her hands are at your waist, holding you up until you get your legs back under you. She smiles as she tilts her head away, "You okay?"

"Yeah," you breathe but say nothing else, not wanting to sound like a huge sap.

"Quinn!" you hear a female voice call.

You look around and finally see a brunette smiling at you. You blink once before you remember who it is. You let out a smile and take Rachel's hand, leading her over to the bar where she's standing. "Hey Paige."

"Hey," she smiles at you then turns to Rachel, "I'm Paige."

Rachel looks between you two before adding, "Rachel. Nice to meet you." Then she turns to you.

"I met her at the um-"

"Strip club," Paige answer with a bright smile at Rachel, "Her friend over there," she motions toward Puck, "bought her a lap dance." Paige touches Rachel's upper arm with a laugh, "Don't worry she kept her hands to herself."

Rachel slowly allows a smile before starting to joke around with Paige. After a minutes your new stripper friend catches your eyes, "Oh remember those black Manolos I told you about?" She points down at her feet. Sure enough there were the black heels that went up to her knees that she told you about while you two talked about clothes and shoes and lingerie.

"Those are adorable," Rachel coos, "Where did you get them?"

"There's a Manolo store inside of the Wynn," she explains, "If you tell the manager Lisa that I sent you, she'll knock off ten percent."

And they're off. Rachel and Paige go off about shoes and price and make and pain associated with a great looking pair. You zone out for a while before leaning behind Rachel on the bar and ordering a drink. The bartender gives you a sympathetic smile as Rachel and Paige chat away next to you. You chuckle and nod.

A tap one your shoulder pulls you away from downing your drink without taking a breath. You turn to find Sam with his hand extended. When he speaks with his Matthew McConaughey voice you want to roll your eyes, "May I have this dance?"

You look over to see Mercedes watching you both. She gives you a smile and a nod so you shrug, "Why not?"

After a minute of playful bouncing around, he finally says, "So me and Mercedes were talking and…can we ask you a favor?"

You quirk an eyebrow, "Maybe."

"We want to move to New York when Mercedes finishes dental school in a few months and we help finding an apartment," he says a little nervously, "I know you're out of that business or whatever. We just need like a point in the right direction."

When you hug him, he tenses a little at first, but then hugs back. "I will help you find an awesome apartment wherever you guys want."

"Thanks Quinn," he smiles.

You motion Mercedes onto the dance floor and you all three start to get down. Of course your get down is subdued because who knows where the paparazzi are. Mercedes and Sam don't seem to have a problem going all out though.

When two hands firmly grip your hips and you feel Rachel once again pressed against your back, your breath catches. She's trying really hard to get you to go back to the hotel with her. Her body moves along with yours like it know what you're going to do before you do it. Her breath on your neck is driving you wild. You push your hair out of the way so that her mouth has full access to whatever part of your neck she wants.

However she just smiles and ghosts her lips over the curve of your neck before pulling back. She lets out a coy smile and lets one of her hands slip down a little low on the small of your back. "Paige and I are going to go play blackjack for a little while. Wanna come?"

You nod. After what just happened, you're probably going to follow her around like a lovesick puppy for the rest of the night. You just need to remember to check for drool occasionally.

"No way, so you two are on Broadway?" Paige asks, "That is so awesome. And cute that you're doing it together."

Rachel briefly smile at you as you add, "I'm not on Broadway."

"Not yet," Rachel clarifies, "She got the lead in her first audition for an off-Broadway production. I give it a few months before we're fighting each other for Tony Awards." Rachel winks at you before she looks at the cards she was just dealt and waves her hand over them.

You can't stop your eyes from tailing all over her hair and across every contour of her face. She's the most beautiful person you've ever seen. It must be all the alcohol you've consumed that is allowing you to so blatantly check out your own girlfriend. The dealer clearing his throat steals your attention. You quickly turn toward him and look at your cards, subtly checking for drool.

Rachel giggles next to you and when you look up, Paige and Whitney look at you like you're a cute puppy who keeps tripping over her own ears. You duck your head and pretend to focus on the cards, trying to hide the blush crawling up your cheek.

A few rounds later, Whitney and Paige announce their departure. They've been working all night and are ready to turn in. You hug them both as does Rachel before they leave.

"So what now?" Rachel looks up at you. She has a seductive glint in her eye and you know exactly what she wants to do. Luckily it's exactly what you want to do as well.

She attacks you in the elevator. No attack is not a strong word. You're pretty sure you're lucky that your back hitting the wall of the elevator didn't dent it.

When the doors open and there's a couple of guys standing there waiting for you to exit, they all smirk to each other as you blush profusely and slip past them. Rachel on the other hand waves at them as she follows you.

She hands you the key card, but won't stop kissing and nipping at your neck as you try to insert it into the slot. When her hands get adventurous, creeping up your shirt, you drop the card altogether. You forehead falls to the door in front of your as Rachel's hand ignores the barrier of your bra, slipping her hands under it and cups your breasts. "Rachel," you manage to pant out, "I can't…"

Before you can finish she spins you around kisses you hard. Her tongue snakes into your mouth and pulls yours out to play. Your hands hide themselves in her hair, pulling her harder against you. Although slightly inebriated and turned on beyond belief, there's still something in your mind that tells you you're in the middle of a hallway that the whole world has access to.

When you try to pull away, she pushes harder against you, reclaiming your lips. That's when you feel her dip down and grab your right leg behind your knee, hoisting it up around her waist. She rolls her hips into you and you moan into her mouth because she hits the perfect place instantly. You know you're the first and only woman she's ever had sex with but her aptitude at it makes it seem like she's pleasured women across the world.

"Rach," you try to control your breathing long enough to get out a coherent sentence. You can feel what she's doing. And you're still in the hallway.

She growls in frustration, "For the days for you to finally decide to wear pants." Finally you hear a ripping noise and hear the button of your pants hit the wall across the hallway.

Your mouth drops open and you wonder what has gotten into your girlfriend. Then all thoughts cease when her hand dives into your pants, completely bypassing your panties and plunges two fingers straight into you.

She uses her hips to thrust her fingers farther into you. Your head hits the door hard and for a fleeting moment you're scared the noise will cause someone to come out of their room. But that's a split second before Rachel's lips land on your neck and start claiming it as their own. She legs go of your leg which remains rigidly curled around her waist and uses to now freehand to head back under your bra.

You can feel yourself getting close with every thrust and all you can do is wrap your hands in her hair and wait for it. You don't have to wait long before in mere seconds you feel yourself clench down on her fingers, a white-hot pleasure radiating over your body. You bite your lip to keep yourself from making any noise.

She kisses your lips tenderly and smiles when your eyes finally flutter open. Your breathing is still heavy, but you can talk now. "Bed?" Okay you can't talk much.

She eagerly nods and easily opens the door with they forgotten key card. You have to hold your pants up as you walk inside before _someone_ ripped the zipper and pulled the button off.

Rachel wastes no time once the door clicks shut. She takes off her shirt and skirt before sitting on the end of the bed and pulling you to her. She pushes your shirt up stating, "Off." You understand and take off your jacket and then your shirt. You take off your bra as well because it's all crooked from Rachel pushing it up earlier anyway. She yanks your pants down and only toys with the hem of your panties for a moment before they joins your pants on the floor.

How she makes you lose all kinds of time you'll never know but you have no idea how long you've been laying on the stripped bed writhing underneath her. You know that it's been a while because you can still taste her all over your mouth. You remember her stifled cry as pleasure took over her body. Of course time doesn't matter with Rachel because no matter how long, it'll never be enough.

Right now her tongue is doing something spectacular between your legs. Your heels dig into the mattress trying to….something. You don't even know what your body is doing anymore.

Once of your hands finds its way into Rachel's hair against, trying to softly guide her in all the places you need her. Not that she needs much help.

Suddenly a light fills the room and you squint against it. Your eyes don't adjust quickly and for a moment you're sure that Rachel has just fucked you blind. However a loud "Whoa!" jerks you out of it. You can feel Rachel has stopped what she's doing.

When your eyes finally adjust you see Puck and Lauren standing in the open doorway wide eyed.

"Uh, guys?" Rachel says, obviously irritated, "We're busy."

Lauren grabs the door handle and pulls the door closed on an awestruck Puck's face.

You start to sit up, finally realizing that Lauren and Puck just walked in on your and Rachel, both completely naked with Rachel's head between your legs. Of course Rachel doesn't stop to think about it, going straight back to what she was doing.

You fall back onto the bed, helpless to fight her amazing mouth.

A few minutes later as you're both laying in the afterglow, snuggled under a blanket, you finally ask, "Can I be mortified that Puck and Lauren walked in on us now?"

Rachel giggles and nods, "Of course and I'll be mortified right there with you."

When you check your phone you find an apology from Puck. There are no lewd remarks or offers for a threesome which solidifies with you that he really is growing up.

The plane ride home is awkward for a little while. Puck and Lauren are sitting behind you and Rachel again.

"C'mon it's not like you've never seen Quinn naked before," you can hear Lauren whisper to Puck.

"I dislike that he got to see you naked before me," Rachel whispers to you.

You laugh and see the smile on her face. She's trying to make it less awkward. Although you're not really sure that you can ever look Puck or Lauren in the eyes again.

You drop everyone off at your stop in O'Hare before boarding another plane. Your goodbyes to your friends were tearful, but Sam promised that there would be another glee kid event soon. He added a wink making you think that you were going to have to go to another wedding sometime soon.

Another few hours later, you step into your apartment. You love traveling, but you love being home as well. You have a little friend waiting for you both on your couch.

"Hey Binxy," Rachel says, scratching the cat's head, "Are you missing your mommies?" Then she mutters to herself that he's probably not used to all the quiet before making her way up the stairs to the bedroom.

You check the cat's food because if the cat doesn't eat at least twice a day you're paranoid that Brittany will know and she'll get mad at you. It seems Jenny has been diligently feeding the cat just like you asked her to.

You leave the cat and walk up the stair to find Rachel stripping to get into the shower. You walk up behind her and hug her from behind, dropping a kiss on her shoulder just to the inside of her bra strap. She tilts her head in the silent direction to kiss her neck like you know she loves. You start to obey when you feel a furry mass rubbing against your ankles. When you look down and stop kissing her, Rachel moans.

Rachel rolls her eyes when you bend down to pick up the cat and rub his tummy. "That cat is going to cause problems."

You smile and remember Santana's statement that the cat was a huge cockblock. Rachel storms into the bathroom and you drop the cat onto your bed. When you sit down next to it, he's immediately rubbing against you. You rub his head and tell him, "You're almost as bad as Rachel."

"I heard that," she calls from the bathroom before she starts the shower.

You check your phone and find a message from Jenny. You read it again and sigh. You just got home….

Deciding that soon was better than later when informing Rachel so you walk into the bathroom and find her washing her hair under the steamy mist. "Rach?"

"Yeah?" she asks, continuing her shower routine.

"I'm going to be in Vancouver for the three days before Hanukah," you tell her, leaning against the sink.

She turns around to look at you, "For what?"

"We're putting on a few performances at a festival," you answer biting the inside of your cheek to try to keep concentrating on her face and not the naked beauty of her body.

She grins at you, "That's wonderful Quinn. I wish I could be there."

"I'm sure it won't be very good," you offer with a shrug secretly wishing that she would be there too. "It's our first full length show."

"I'm sure you'll be phenomenal," she leans back into the falling water of the rainfall showerhead she insisted on after you moved in. "You can just fly into Lima from Vancouver the day after your shows end and Ethan and I will fly from New York the next day."

You nod, your eyes finally getting the better of you as you watch the water form a stream down her collarbone and in between her breasts before disappearing behind the foggy glass. Finally you shake your head and kick off of the sink, "I'm going to go see what we have for dinner."

"Or you could come in here and do what you've been thinking about for the past five minutes," she answers, turning around in the water, looking into the water as it hit her face.

Have you really been staring for five minutes? You suppose it doesn't really matter as you start to get rid of your clothes.


	36. Chapter 36

You've never been out of the country before and this is the first time since you got together that you'll have been away from Rachel for so long. You've never considered yourself codependent except maybe with Santana, but that's sort of a need someone to tell you if that dress really makes you look fat and for her special brand of snarky Santana support. You can get all that stuff over the phone.

You stayed at your apartment for as long as possible before having to go to the plane with the rest of your cast. Rachel kissed you and told you that she loved you multiple times. You still miss her though. Your hotel is nice and your castmates are great company. You just miss her. And it's only been twelve hours. How sad is that?

When you're at the theatre having your make-up done, you get a text from Santana. She wants to take you out to dinner when you get to Lima. She's been a lot nicer since Brittany's show opened and her semester is over. Of course she and Brittany are joined at the hip now, but if they're happy you're happy for them. You tell her that you'll meet her when you get there.

You look out onto the crowd. You know Rachel shouldn't be here, but part of you wishes that she is. Of course you know that even as amazing as Rachel is she can't be in two places at once. You're just nervous for your first show and her presence would make you feel infinitely better.

You miss Rachel. You don't feel empty, but you feel less full. You knew how big her personality is. You just didn't realize how much it filled a void. You start to think it's unhealthy how much you miss her.

Your second day in Vancouver, you let the leading man show you around. Courtney is a nice guy and has been to Vancouver enough times to know a few good places to eat. He takes you out to breakfast and as you wait for him to return from the restroom you check your phone for all Rachel related tabloids. You find the newest one and open it.

_Broadway star Rachel Berry goes ring shopping with new beau._

You laugh at the headline because under it is a picture of Rachel and Ethan at a jewelry store. Sure Rachel has her arm lopped through Ethan's, but Ethan's your friend and Rachel is your girlfriend and if your life were some twisted soap opera, they'd be sleeping together behind you back, but since this is real life, you know that they're probably out shopping for Hanukah presents…. wait…. ring shopping. Ethan couldn't afford that store that they're in. So Rachel's buying a ring for someone. Who makes more sense than buying one for you? Rings mean…holy shit.

"What's wrong?" Courtney asks you, sitting back down.

Your face must have been conveying more than you thought. "I just…" You tilt your head to the side, "Rings don't have to mean that someone is going to ask someone else to get married right?"

Courtney smiles, "What are you talking about?"

"I mean if your girlfriend was in a picture ring shopping with one of your best friends what would you think?" you doctor your coffee until it is the perfect shade of tan which just so happens to match Rachel's eyes.

"How long have you two been dating?" he asks.

"A few months," you shrug. It doesn't seem like it. It seems like years and the way you see it the courtship process started the second you got someone to throw a slushy in her face. Not the most conventional way to start a relationship, but it worked for you apparently.

"Isn't that a little early?"

"I guess so," you shrug. Of course if she did ask you to marry her there would be no hesitation. It's a million yeses before she even gets the whole question out. You just don't want to pressure her into going too fast.

He shrugs, taking a bite of his bacon, "My grandparents got married after knowing each other for three days."

"Really?" you ask.

"Yeah," he takes a swig of orange juice and nods, "They met at a party back in the day. They told me that it was love at first sight. His parents kicked him out when they found out. They didn't care though."

"That's sweet," you smile.

Courtney nods with a smile, "Yeah. I guess that made me into a romantic. I keep waiting for the girl. I mean if you got _the girl_ and you know it, why not go for it?"

You sip your coffee and give him a slow nod. Makes sense….if you're in a romance novel. In the real life there are more obstacles than that. Insecurities and an innate ability to put down everything that ever made you happy are just a few. You're still waiting for the crazy part of your brain to take over and do something royally stupid in an attempt to get Rachel to leave you.

Of course Santana told you the first step in know you're going to sabotage yourself if knowing that it's going to happen. Then planning accordingly. Of course you think that you're a much more sneaky saboteur than her which you can see coming for miles. You fight like a girl. You gain intel, find a weakness, wait until the victim isn't looking and hit them where it hurts most before sashaying away in your designer heels.

"What did you get her for Hanukah?" he asks you.

You smile to yourself, "A necklace." You hope she likes it. It's a beautiful, sparkling cascade of jewels. "Oh and I made her something."

"What did you make her?" Courtney asks with a smile.

"When we were in high school, I took this video of her singing," you explain, "Which totally sounds creepy now, but I made it into a DVD and put it in a scrapbook of us. I know it sounds cheesy and so dull, but I think it's nice sometimes to see how far we've come. I even found some pictures of me and her together smiling."

"Nice," he nods.

"Where are you going for the holiday?" you ask him.

"I'm going to Colorado with my family," he shrugs, "I'm flying straight there after this."

You've both been avoiding talking about the show because you're both nervous about how it went. Finally you have to ask him, "How do you think the show went?"

"I think it went well," he grins, "The five minutes standing ovation you got should have told you that."

"It was all of us," you roll your eyes, "Probably more you."

"They were just cheering because I finally got to kiss the pretty girl."

You chuckle and shake your head. "You're crazy."

You spend most of your time in Vancouver with Courtney. He's been here before and you don't feel comfortable venturing too far out by yourself. The shows drain you so you sleep most of the way to Lima. Your mom picks you up at the airport and drives you back to her house.

She shoos you away to take a shower, but you end up falling into your bed and passing out for a few hours.

Your phone ringing wakes you up.

"Who taught Rachel how to use Twitter?"

It's Kathy and she's saying it like it's your fault. You're still half asleep and just groan, "What?"

"This is a publicists nightmare. Rachel Berry with unlimited uncensored access to her fans and the media." she hangs up and you look at the phone wondering what the hell just happened.

Then you realization dawns on you. You pick up your phone and after a quick Google search you find that Rachel opened up a twitter account yesterday. At that moment you are so glad that you're not her publicist.

Then the curiosity gets the better of you so you log onto the Twitter account you created forever ago at the behest of a coworker but never actually used.

Soon you're one of almost a hundred thousand people following her. So far she's only tweeted four things. The first is:

 _RachelBerry_ I'm so excited to use Twitter. Any questions from fans?

That scares you a little bit. Unlimited access to Rachel Berry is probably not something the world is ready for. You continue reading:

RT _nolife78754_ any comments on your recent break up with Quinn Fabray?

 _RachelBerry_ If we've broken up it's news to me. Guess I should check before I finish my Holiday shopping. ;-)

Someone asked for advice and she told them to never stop trying. Someone just commented that you were lucky to have to. She told them that you were lucky to have each other, but she felt like the luckiest one.

The last one made you laugh until tears ran out of your eyes.

RT _columbiamedBAMF_ can you explain the heinous animal sweaters you wore in high school?

 _RachelBerry_ Hi Santana

You drop your phone on the bed next to you and look up at the ceiling. There's no telling how many hours you've stared at the ceiling. The first time you remember really staring for a really, really long time was then you started high school. There are still pushpin holes from there your posters used to hang. You took them down when your dad kicked you out and never put them back up when your mom took you back. You can't remember what the posters were of. Probably cheerleading or some shirtless guy who was popular at the time.

You smile a little because since the last time you've stared at the ceiling, you feel like you've figured yourself out. You know what you're capable of and you know your emotional capacity. You know a lot more about yourself than you ever imagined.

You finally get out of bed and make your way downstairs. Your mom is leaning on the kitchen counter, reading a magazine.

"Uh mom," you get a mug down and pour yourself some hot water out of the kettle then open the cabinet to select from your mother's ever growing tea selection. "Why are you reading Men's Health?"

"Oh it's something Eliot left last time he was here," your mom shrugs and sets it down, "There was an interesting article about colon health."

"So interesting," you grab a bag of green tea and set it in your steaming water, "If you're done with the colon article I'll take it back to him when I meet Rachel there tomorrow."

"It's not fair that you two always stay over there," you mom tells you as you grab a seat on one of the stools by the island.

You blow on your tea, "We've only been here once as a couple and you weren't here then."

"How sad is that?" she asks, leaning on the counter across from you, "You never come see your mother."

It's more of a tease than anything and you let out a smile, "Or you could move to New York. Upstate somewhere with tall trees and more junior leagues than people."

You mom chuckles and moves the salt and pepper shakers around on the counter, straightening them up, "I can't leave your sister. Especially now that the divorce is being finalized."

You furrow your eyebrows, "Divorce?"

"She didn't tell you?"

You talked to your sister last week and she didn't mention anything about a divorce. And if it's being finalized now, then it had to have started at least a month ago. Ryan wouldn't go down without a fight. "What happened?"

There's a far off look in your mother's eyes and you can tell this divorce is hitting her close to home. "She found out that he had girlfriends in three of the five biggest cities in the Midwest."

"Oh my god," you breath. You can't imagine that. If Rachel…hell even if Finn had cheated on you like that you'd be completely heartbroken. "Is she okay?"

Your mom takes a deep breath, "Yeah. I think so. She's not really as upset as you'd think. I don't think she actually liked him all the much to be honest. I didn't and I know you didn't. You practically growled every time he got near you."

You let out a small smile. You didn't know you were that transparent, but you're happy that you weren't the only one that didn't like him. You didn't have to ask your mom why your sister married him if she didn't actually like him. In Lima, if you don't marry your high school sweetheart, the next best thing is to marry a well-off man. So the single women in Lima jockey for position in the race to get the best man. Luckily for Fabray women, you're all drop-dead gorgeous and have men running over their tongues for you. Your mom and sister went the well-off way while you stuck with your high school sweetheart. See how well it worked out for all of you?

"Did she get the house?" you ask after mulling the situation over in your head.

Your mom pushes her blonde hair away from her face, "Yes. She also got the cars and alimony, but she's been staying here. She's upstairs right now sleeping. She's been doing that a lot lately."

You feel like a shitty sister. Like you should have seen this coming and you should have been here to support her instead of gushing about how perfect Rachel is every time that she calls. You feel like the worst sister ever.

"Does she need anything?" you ask, wanting to figure out a way to make it up to her.

"I don't know," your mom brings her mug to her lips, "You'll have to ask her." After a sip she answers, "So about you and Rachel staying here."

"Mom, are you really going to celebrate Hanukah?" you tilt your head to the side.

"I've been celebrating it better than you," she smirks, "I went to the synagogue with Steve and Eliot last night and I've been keeping completely kosher all week."

You're impressed. You know she's become best friends with Rachel's dads, but you didn't know it came to the point that she was celebrating religious holidays with them. "Rachel's bringing our friend because his family is out of the country and he didn't have the money to go with them. There's not enough room here."

"Of course there is," your mom says. "You and Rachel can sleep in your room. Frannie will be in her room and your friend can sleep in the study."

"Um," you rub your forehead, "I'll ask Rachel and Ethan, but I'll stay here for sure."

She rounds the counter and puts her arm around you, "I was just kidding with you. You won't hurt my feelings by staying with the Berrys."

"No, I'm going to stay here," you answer, finding a familiar sanctuary in your mother's arms, "I live with Rachel and I seen Ethan all the time. It won't kill me to sleep a few streets away."

You mom raises her eyebrows at you. "Quinn," you can tell she's serious, "I'm surprised that you managed to stay in Vancouver as long as you did without seeing her."

You smile because she's right. It's probably a miracle that you managed to make it without flying back every night.

"Oh, speaking of Rachel, have you see her new Twitter?" your mom asks.

After talking with your mom for a couple hours before heading upstairs to get dressed for dinner with Santana. You have no idea what this super secret sans-Brittany dinner is about, but it'll be nice to catch up with your friend. You've both been so busy lately.

As you brush out your hair, you hear your phone vibrate with a text on the bathroom counter next to you. When you pick it up you see it's from Rachel.

_Hey gorgeous. I miss you._

You smile at yourself in the mirror and adjust your hair, You pick up your phone and fall back onto the bed. After pressing a few buttons you put the phone to your ear.

"Hey," she answers softly. She sounds tired. Matinee shows can do that to people.

"Hey," you answer, "I miss you too." You can hear her moving some things around and by the rustle of cloth you figure that she's laying in bed.

"How was your day?" she asks lazily.

You look back up at the ceiling, the holes still staring down at you. Keeping the phone to your ear, you get up and walk to your suitcase. On top is the scrapbook your made for Rachel. You open it and take out one of the loose photographs that you didn't have room for. It was when you first moved to New York. You and Rachel were cheek to cheek on a busy sidewalk somewhere. Probably on the way home from dinner or something. You finally remember you're on the phone and answer her questions, "It was okay. I tried to sleep off my exciting three days in Vancouver and I talked with my mom for a few hours. Also, I got an interesting call from Kathy."

"Did you see it?" her voice is suddenly excited as you root around in your desk drawer. Finally you extract when you were looking for.

"Yeah I did," you answer, "What made you start one now?"

"Oh, I was signing autographs outside of the theatre when someone asked if I had one," she answers, "And I thought, why not? Apparently Kathy thought, oh god."

You laugh and step up onto your bed. You reach up, standing on your toes and push the pin through the corner of the picture. You repeat the process three more times and then hop down. When you fall back onto the bed this time, you see her smiling face pressed against yours instead of the white expanse of the bare ceiling and it makes you smile.

"I love you," you softly tell her.

You can hear the smile in her voice when she says it back. "I'm going to go to sleep okay? I'll see you tomorrow."

"Alright," you tell her, "Sweet dreams beautiful."

"Goodnight Quinn," she says.

You hang up the phone and nearly jump out of your skin when you hear, "Oh my god I just threw up a little in my mouth."

You turn to the doorway of your room to find Santana standing there. Her tight jeans are neatly tucked into her brown leather boots with a small heel. You ignore her black long sleeved shirt and blue puffy vest and move straight for the fuzzy hat she's wearing. You let out a smile and she rolls her eyes, "Shut up. It's fucking cold outside."

You sit up and grab your faux fur lined mid-calf boots that are the warmest ones you own. "It's Brittany's isn't it?"

She nods, "Yeah." Her eyes are distant and thoughtful as she stares at the ground while you finished getting ready. She's quiet all the way out of the house. She wasn't kidding when she said it was cold. Her hand slips through your arm, her fingers resting on the inside curve of your elbow.

You look to her and see that she's still staring off into space. "What's wrong Santana?"

She just shakes her head and opens the car door for you, "We'll talk when we get there."

After look at her, trying to figure out what's going on with you, you sit down in the seat. She closes the door and walks to the other side to start the silent drive to the restaurant.


	37. Chapter 37

"Breadstix?" you ask, picking up one of the infamous breadsticks and snapping it in half.

"Lima's finest," she offers you a smile.

You smile back and after you order your drinks, you ask her what's up.

She just wraps her fingers around her drink and deeply sighs, "I don't know. It's just a lot of things. I have to find an internship soon. And I have to get one in New York because I can't leave Brittany again and there's only one Broadway and you can't be a Broadway choreographer without Broadway."

"And?" you ask. This can't be all that she's stressing over. If that's it Santana usually makes more for herself.

"And she wants to have a kid," Santana states, "Not like right now. But soon and…and I'm not ready. I still have my internship and then a residency where I'll barely have to time to sleep, much less be a good parent to a kid. Then I have my surgical residency and then I'll be like thirty," her eyes get wide, "Isn't that too old to have a kid?"

You smile and shake your head. There's the Santana you know. Freaking the hell out about kids and being thirty. You're surprised she hasn't said anything about her ass yet.

"Oh my god, what if she wants me to have a kid? My ass will get huge."

There it is. Full on Santana panic-mode. You've talked her down enough times to know it when it's coming. "Thirty is not too old to have kids. Your ass may get huge, but you can get it back and how is the valedictorian at Columbia Med not going to get in internship at the best hospital in New York?"

You can see her biting the inside of her cheek, staring hard at her glass of cheap chain restaurant wine. After a sigh she says, looking up at you with her head tilted down, "I can't say no to her forever. Shit, it's a damn miracle that I can say it to her now."

"Look, if its emotional battle, you're going to lose," you tell her. She raises her head and squares her chin listening, "You're an emotional cripple and completely whipped. She's the Einstein of emotions, always knowing what to do and how to handle herself. It's not a fair fight."

"Gee thanks," she leans her head against her palm. She's still looking at you for more input. No matter how well she and Brittany know each other, Santana has always been known to second guess herself and that's exactly what she's doing right now.

"Just reason with her. Tell her that right now you're not financially secure enough to have a child. Neither one of really has time for each other much less a kid," you state. "You just got married. Enjoy that."

" _You_ reason with her. She bats her eyelashes at me and I fucking forget my own damn name," Santana hangs her head.

You shrug, why not? "I'll talk to her."

"Awesome," Santana perks up and grins, "You're the best Q."

You narrow your eyes at her and think that you've just been played. Santana loves to make you do her dirty work and you think you just got conned into it again. But before you can call her out she adds, "Did you see the paparazzi pics of Rachel and that hunky handyman? It's a good thing she learned to dress herself since high school."

"Yeah," you nod. You sit back as your food arrives. After you both dig in, you ask, "They were at a jewelry store, looking at rings. What do you think that's all about?"

Santana quirks an eyebrow, "They were picking up my wife's newly fixed ring. One of the prongs got bent while she was trying to teach me how to ride a dirt bike."

"Oh," you look down at your pasta. That makes sense. You look back at Santana to tell her how funny the picture in your mind is of her trying to ride a dirt bike. But her look stops you. There's a sinister grin on her face.

"Oh my god Q," she looks across the table at you with knowing eyes that make you nervous, "You want her to ask you to marry her."

"No," you immediately answer. You don't want to be that girl that perpetually waiting for her significant other to ask them to marry her. You don't want to be the girl that wants to get married after a little more than six months of dating. You don't want to be that girl. You desperately don't want to be that girl.

But the smile on Santana's face is telling. You're that girl. You just got out of a damn marriage and now you want to jump into another one. Except this is actually one you've been wanting since, what freshman year of high school? But still. You're one of those girls. It's gross.

"Aww," she mocks you, pressing her hand to her chest and looking at the ceiling, "That is so cute."

"Fuck you," you roll your eyes and take a sip of your drink to buy yourself some time, "It's too soon."

"Damn right it is," Santana nods affirmatively, dropping the fake sweetness.

Okay, you know you just said it and she's just agreeing with you, but she didn't have to agree that quickly or that adamantly, "What does _that_ mean?"

She folds her arms on the table and leans forward accepting your challenge. "It means that you've been dating if however long…you haven't even been divorced for a year. You need to cool it on the marriage thing."

"Who cares?" you ask back. "If I want to get married the day after I get divorced, I can."

Santana throws her head back in a laugh, "You so do want to get married."

"Shut the fuck up," you growl at her. Stupid Santana and her word traps. You stepped right into it and she nailed your ass to the wall.

Eventually you get her to drop it, but you swear her to secrecy not that that usually works.

She's very nice the rest of the dinner. She even orders you desert and picks up the check. There are times when you know what Brittany sees all the time. When she trusts you and isn't in a bad mood, Santana can be sweet.

She walks you to the front door and thanks you for having dinner with her. You tell her to say hi to Brittany for you. She gives you a hug and walks back to her car.

You go inside and head to bed. Rachel's coming in tomorrow and you don't want to look tired.

When you wake up you spend some quality time with your sister. You talk to her about her divorce which she talks about like a business transaction. She jokes that now she actually gets to use her MBA now instead of sitting around all day being a housewife, drinking wine and watching Days Of Our Lives.

You keep meticulous track of the time. They're supposed to arrive at two in the afternoon, but their flight gets delayed because of bad weather at LaGuardia. Rachel and Ethan arrive four hours late. She texts you when they land and tells you that she'll be over after she drops off her luggage at her dad's house. You can't help, but be ridiculously excited to see her. You want to run out onto the front porch and leap down the stairs into her arms. Then you look down at what you're wearing. Black sweatpants and an old Cheerio hoodie. Not appealing.

So you run upstairs and quickly change into something more socially acceptable even though Rachel has seen you in every state of clothing and even Ethan has definitely seen you in sweats, but you haven't see Rachel in almost four days and you feel the need to impress her.

"You can stop fixing your hair," you sister says as she passes your door on the way downstairs, "She already lives with you."

You know she's right, but you're Quinn Fabray damn it and when it comes to Rachel there is no logic. You shake your hair out and follow your sister down the stairs. For someone who is getting a divorce she looks great.

"Are the conjoined twins coming to Zot Hanukuh dinner?"

"You and mom are really serious about this Hanukuh thing huh?" you ask.

She shrugs, "Why not? We're doing Christmas too by the way and as soon as the Menorah comes down I'm putting up a tree. Conjoined twins?"

"They're not twins," you state, "But I won't argue with you about the conjoined part. I'll text them and see." You shoot a quick text to Brittany and Santana before walking into the kitchen where your mother is baking something that smells amazing.

"Oh mom, what's that?" Frannie says walking in behind you.

"I made an apple pie, a vegan pumpkin pie and some carob chip cookies," your mom smiles with an oven mitt on both hands. If you saw this on your mother before your sophomore year of high school you would have thought you were in the wrong house, but apparently she was a dormant Stepford mom because as soon as your dad was gone, she became a supportive, loving, baking and cooking picture of a 1950s mother.

"What are carob chip cookies?" Frannie asks, walking over to the pan and picking one up.

Your mom slaps her hand, but doesn't make her put it down. You decide to answer for her, "It's a vegan substitute for chocolate."

"Jesus why don't you just move in with Quinn and Rachel and you can both drool over her," Frannie quirks an eyebrow at your mom.

She just laughs and puts her hand on your sister's shoulder, "I made you your apple pie honey. I just want Rachel to feel comfortable."

There's a knock on the front door and Frannie grabs your arm before you walk out of the kitchen to get it. "Uh sis you're hair it just…" she trails off as she messes up your hair the best she can in the few seconds she gets before you run off.

When you open the door, Rachel dives into your arms before you can even say hi. Ethan is standing behind her holding the bag and laughing to himself.

After you get a few kisses in, you and Rachel lead Ethan into the kitchen. The second you walk in Rachel ditches you for the carob chip cookies. You smile when she shoots you a loving grin. Then you introduce Ethan to your mother and your sister.

After a few hours of catching Rachel up on everything and your mom and sister getting to know Ethan, (your sister especially), you and Rachel are left in the living room while everyone else goes into the kitchen to see what's for dinner.

Rachel pushes you back onto the couch and collapses on top of you. "I'm not really going to have to sleep by myself again tonight am I?" she brushes her cheek against yours and kisses your neck, in the loving, innocent way you've come to love.

You shift your body so she fits better and so your bodies are fully flush. You run your fingers through her hair and kiss her head, "I'm sorry."

"I understand. I'd stay with you if we didn't bring Ethan. Divorce is a hard time."

You take a deep breath, "Yeah."

"I don't like sleeping at home without you," she rubs your stomach.

"Did you sleep somewhere else?"

"No, but I held your pillow all night."

"Aww. You're so cute."

"And Sexy."

"So sexy."

She sits up a little and lays her head back on the couch cushion, "How was dinner with Santana?"

"Oh I just had to talk her down. Britt wants babies."

"Really? Already?"

"Britt's wanted a baby since I can remember. Santana used to give her all of her baby dolls."

"Aww. Did their parents ever figure they'd end up together?"

"I'm sure. I never did get to know their parents really well. My dad didn't like Santana's parents because they were more successfully and educated. He didn't like Brittany's parents because they were hippie foreigners who let Brittany express herself all the time." You offer Rachel a smile and she rewards you with a peck on the lips.

"Hey!" your sister calls, "Keep it PG. There are elderly people in this house." She walks in and plops down on the armchair.

"I heard that!" your mom calls from the kitchen.

Must to your distaste, Rachel does get off of you. She stands up and look around. She's never really gotten a chance to look around your childhood house before. You get up and follow her around the living room and into the den.

"How fun was it to grow up in this house?" Rachel smiles at you with wide eyes. She's looking around at all the little storage spaces and hiding places. "I bet you and Frannie had the best games of hide and seek."

You force a smile and nod, turning away from her before she can see that it wasn't real. This house was a fun place to live, but only a few weeks out of the year when your father was out of town on business. Your mom would make cookies and camp out with you and Frannie in the living room under tents made of sheets and dining room chairs. Then you'd all wake up in the morning and eat pancakes and do each other's nails. It's honestly the most fun you've ever had in this house.

You bite your lip wondering how your mom lives here day in and day out, alone. You don't want her to be alone. You run a hand through your hair and walk over to a bookcase that now houses your mom's vast collection of romance novels. There used to be a picture of her and your father at their wedding sitting up on the third shelf. You can still see it there, even though it's probably in a box somewhere in the attic.

"Girls?" your mom walks in from the kitchen with a smile on her face, "Dinner is ready." Frannie gets up and walks into the kitchen. Your looks from Rachel to you where her face falls. You bring her hand to your cheeks to make sure you weren't crying before ducking your head.

"I'll be there in a minute," you tell her and make a quick dash out onto the front porch.

You're lowering yourself down onto the top porch step when the door clatters open and shut again. "Quinn?"

You can see the breath of your exhale in the cold, "I just need a minute. Alone."

For a moment, there's no sound. You know that Rachel is frozen in place. You've never rebuffed her comfort before. In fact you usually initiate it, but you just….need a minute. Her voice is quiet when she tells you, "Okay, I'll be inside if you need me okay?"

You just nod and rest your forehead on your knees. The door squeaks open and silently closes. You don't know what's wrong with you. It's the holidays. You're not supposed to be depressed.

The door opens again and there are purposeful steps toward you. You don't lift your head and you don't have to, to know that your mother just sat down next to you. You can smell her perfume.

"What's wrong honey?" she asks with a hand on your back.

You shrug, "I dunno."

Her arm moves to cradle your back and she pulls you into her. Your rest your head on her shoulder like you've been doing your whole life. You can't bite back the question before it comes out, "Are you lonely?"

She takes a moment to answer, but when she does, it's simple and finite. "No."

"Really?" you sigh.

"Okay sometimes," she says, "But rarely. I have wonderful, wonderful friends. Steve and Eliot are the best friends anyone could ever ask for. I've been on a few dates, but I'm not in any rush. I'm having fun."

You look up at the graying sky, "I worry about you, you know?"

"I worry about you too."

"Is Frannie lonely? I feel bad for…having Rachel and she's going through this divorce and you're…"

"Never feel bad for being with Rachel," she rubs your arm. "Rachel's lovely and I couldn't have selected a better mate for you. She's part of the family now and your sister and I are happy for you."

"But I do and I know I shouldn't, but I do," you sniffle trying to fight tears. "I love her so much and I think I think I always have…and now you and Frannie are…"

"Alone?" your mom asks with a caring smile, "Honey, we're not alone. We have friends and we have each other and we have you and by extension we have Rachel. And we have Rachel's dads. Your relationship with her doubled our family.

You let out a long sigh and wait for a car to slowly drive by, the cracks of the ice on the road giving way. Another exhale and the crystals of your breath float through the air before disappearing.

After a moment your mom asks, "Are you trying to find something wrong with that lovely girl in there?"

"No...maybe...yeah I guess." You close your eyes, just enjoying your mom's arms around you.

"Well news flash. There's nothing wrong with Rachel."

Your face dons the faintest hint of a smile, "Don't I know it?"

"I think you do. I think you're doing that thing that you do."

"What thing?"

"Trying to stop yourself from being happy." She squeezes you, "I know I'm sorry that I allowed your father to teach you that you're not allowed to be happy. There are actually a lot of things I'm sorry for about when it comes to him and you girls, but you're happy now and I can see it and I know you know it. Don't mess it up. Rachel's a great girl."

"I know." You sigh. You feel bad for sending her away earlier.

"It's freezing out here," your mom stands up and offers you her hands. When she pulls you up she hugs you and kisses the side of your head, "I love you."

"Love you too," you mumble and follow her inside.

When you walk into the dining room, Rachel is pouring Frannie a glass of wine. She looks to you with worried eyes. She doesn't have to ask out loud to know she wants to know if you're okay. You give her a genuine smile and kiss her cheek before pulling her chair out for her.

Dinner goes great. Ethan gets along famously with your family. He seems rapt with everything Frannie says and you get a little suspicious when she touches his arm as they laugh about some little snickered joke on their side of the table.

Your mom catches your eyes and subtly jerks her head toward Frannie and Ethan with a joyous smile on her face. You just smile and shake your head. Then you look at Rachel who has a smug smile on her face. And it wouldn't surprise you if she planned the whole thing, the little evil, midget mastermind.

After dinner, Ethan volunteers to clean up and along with Frannie they start to clean the dining room. Your mom excuses herself to make a phone call and you and Rachel go to the den again, sitting on the couch again.

You rest your lips on her shoulder and apologize for sending her away earlier.

She kisses your forehead, "It's fine sweetie. I understand that sometimes you need some alone time. Just next time try to not need alone time after I've been away from you for so long."

You melt at her words and wrap your arms around her. "I love you."

"I love you too," she kisses you slowly, savoring every second of like you haven't seen each other in weeks instead of days.

When she breaks the kiss, she smile so lovingly at you, you can feel your legs get weak and when she rests her head on your shoulder you're content.

You both watch Ethan and Frannie move around the kitchen for a few minutes. They keep blatantly flirting and it makes you smile to see your sister back to her old, pre-marriage self.

"Look how well they're getting along," Rachel sighs, "This is so perfect. It's a Hanukah miracle."

You laugh and hope that she was kidding about that last part.

"Now we need to get your mom and sister to move to New York, my dads can follow and we can holiday with everyone on Lake George," she lets out a content, dramatic sigh, "And life will be perfect."

You look her over and find that she's not joking in the least. Her eyes are serious they finally flicker to you. "Wow," you breathe.

"Your mom can meet a sensitive writer who is a hopeless romantics and lives on the lake for inspiration and we can have our wed…parties on the lake at sunset with all of our families and friends," she looks at you with a faint smile. Her eyes are completely sincere and you wonder when she had time to plan this all out. "Wouldn't it be nice to not have to get on a plane to see our families. It takes four hours to get to Lake George from Brooklyn."

You furrow your eyebrows and trail your finger along skin of her arm. "Who lives in Brooklyn?"

"Well no one. I just didn't want to add the extra time it would take us to get from Manhattan, out of the city. I'm trying to make this appealing to you so you'll help me sell it. The holidays always make me miss my dads and I realize when you were in Vancouver that you may be gone for long periods of time with promoting and maybe movies. I want my dads close and the only way to get them there is to move their best friend, Judy, to New York and the only way to get Judy there is to get Frannie there."

"You really want my mom and sister within driving distance of us?" you joke, but the more she talks about it, the better it sounds.

"Badly," she states, her smile faded to nothing.

You look her over and realize that she almost looks sad. You dip your torso down so you can get a better hold of her. Once your arms are wrapped around her, you kiss her head, "Okay, we'll talk to them."

"Really?" she whispers.

"Of course," you rub her arm and rest your head against hers.


	38. Chapter 38

Rachel goes up to your room to make or take a phone call or something then to get something out of the car. You go into the living room and sit down next to your mom. She puts her arm around you and you lean into her.

You miss your mom and the more you think about it the more Rachel's idea becomes appealing to you. Having your mom close would be amazing. You could take her shopping and visit her more often.

"Mom?" you ask, not moving from your place under her arm.

"Hmm?" she asks, rubbing your arm affectionately.

"If Frannie moves to New York, will you move there too?" you stare into the fire that your mom started earlier.

She pauses. "I suppose I'd consider it," you mom says. You can feel her looking down at you so you look back at up at her. She smiles lovingly. "Are you okay?"

You nod. "Rachel was just talking about how she misses her dads and she's going to try to get them to move to New York."

Your mom hmms for a second and takes a deep breath, "She's nesting."

"What?" you sit up and look at your mom.

"She's settling down," your mom tells you, "Nesting."

You blink and then tilt your head, "Settling down for what?"

"For…" she pauses, "For life. Adulthood. She wants her dads close so that they can be part of it."

"If I say I'm nesting too will you move to New York?" you ask, making a pouty face.

You mom laughs. "Talk to your sister. Although I think your little evil genius has planted the seeds. However does Ethan know that Rachel's using him for bait?"

"I don't really think this was part of her plan until she found out that Frannie is getting a divorce," you say, "It's a good plan though."

"Great plan," your mom chuckles, "She's a mastermind for sure."

"Can you talk to Steve and Eliot for her?" you ask earnestly. "She really wants them in New York."

She nods, "Sure honey." She kisses your forehead.

Your mom excuses herself to go change and get ready for bed. You go into the kitchen and sit at the table, checking your email until Rachel walks in.

"So I'm going to stay here tonight."

You look up at Rachel who just walked back inside from running out to her dad's car to get a bottle of wine she and Ethan forgot to get out, "Really?"

She sets the wine on the kitchen table and sits down in your lap, wrapping her arms around your neck, "Mhmm. You and I are going to sleep on the couch and Ethan is going to stay in your room."

"But the couch doesn't fold out." You rest your head on her shoulder.

"I know," there's a mischievous sparkle in her eyes, "Ain't it grand? Your mom also told me it gets really cold in the living room at night."

"Is this another one of those not giving me an option, but to sleep with you things?" you chuckle.

She kisses your cheek, "Exactly, but more sinister because it's cold and we'll be sharing a couch."

After you and Rachel get ready for bed, Rachel lays down on the couch and you lay down next to her. It's dark and the fire is slowly dying. You nuzzle into her neck and kiss her collarbone.

There's never really a feeling quite like being held by her. You feel safe and warm. You feel more loved than you ever have in your entire life. And when she chastely kisses the top of your head, you feel so much safer and so loved.

You can feel her hold tighten on you. You kiss her shoulder, "Why are you holding on so tight?"

She runs her free hand through your hair, "I don't want you to fall off of the couch."

"I won't fall." You smile at her caring.

"Humor me."

"I'm not complaining," you burrow into her and revel in the heat her body is putting off. It is freezing because the fire is dying, but you're warm.

After awhile, right before you fall asleep Rachel asks, "Do you think we would have ended up together if we were friends in high school?"

"No," you mumble.

"Why not?"

"I wouldn't have appreciated you enough…Not having you was…torture, but I learned how much you mean to me," you tighten your arm that's around her waist.

You feel her take a deep breath under you. "I think it's for the best this way. I don't think I would have appreciated you either."

"I love you," you tell her.

She echoes your sentiments and you easily drift off to sleep in her arms.

When you wake up in the morning, Rachel's gone, but you hear her giggling. When you sit up on the couch, you see Rachel and your sister in the den. They're both sitting on yoga mats, in work out attire, but instead of actually doing yoga, Rachel's painting her nails and Frannie is looking at her phone.

You fall back on the couch and start laughing.

"Hey!" Frannie calls, "We can hear you. And for your information, we actually did yoga for like five whole minutes."

"I'm glad you didn't strain yourself," you say back, not getting up from the couch.

Rachel walks over to you and kisses you. "Good morning."

You look over at her, "Good morning." You sit up so she can sit next to you. When she does, she presents her nails so that you can examine them. You look them over and smile at her, "Nice. What's the plan for today?"

"At some point we're going to have to go see my dads," she explains, "Well I do. I supposed you can stay here."

You pull the blanket back over you and lean back on the couch. "I'll go, but at some point I'm going to have to go see Brittany."

"For what?"

"Santana wants me to talk to her about the baby thing," you cover up a yawn with the blanket.

"Why can't she do it?" Rachel asks. You quirk your eyebrow and Rachel laughs, "Okay I guess you're right."

"I'll take her out to lunch or something," you stand up and stretch. "I'm gonna go take a shower and then you can tell me what we're going to do today."

"Why don't you meet her for a late brunch after your shower and then you can meet me at my dads' house?" she offers.

You nod, "Sounds good."

She gives you a smile, "Have fun."

On the way up the stairs you text Brittany to see if she wants to meet. The response is immediate. She's going to pick you up in half an hour.

You top the stairs and walk into your bedroom. You completely forgot Ethan was sleeping in there, but he's awake and completely dressed. You're happy about that. You're sure he's happier.

"I'll get out of your way," he grins and starts to walk out.

You grab the sleeve of his shirt and stop him from leaving, "Hold on."

He raises his eyebrows, "Need something?"

"You know my sister just got a divorce right?" you ask him.

He grins and gives you a hug, "I won't hurt her. I won't make her go faster than she wants. Yes I like her, but she lives here and I live in New York. We're just having fun. She's nice."

You pat his back, "Just know that I'll hurt you if you hurt her at all."

"Got it," he steps back from you, "I'm going to go make breakfast. How do pancakes sound?"

"Awesome," you grin at him. He's a good guy and he's probably your number one pick for your sister's new beau if she's going to move on immediately.

You get into the bathroom and turn on the shower. You take your time taking your clothes off, waiting for the water to get hot. You're a little chilly from last night so when the hot water hits your skin, you let out a content sigh.

After you get your hair wet you turn to the back of the shower to get some soap when you notice the shower curtain moving back. You're a little alarmed before a very naked Rachel steps into the shower. She smiles and turns you around. You feel a soft cloth being swept up and down your back, "Why didn't you just come with me when I first went to get into the shower."

She giggles, "I had to wait for my nails to dry." You feel her drop a kiss on your right shoulder and then your left one. She tenderly washes your arms and then your torso with a proficiency that comes from knowing your body intimately. With every pass of the cloth over your breasts, you feel a need growing, but Rachel doesn't seem to notice or if she doesn't she's not letting on.

She finishes your body in a painstakingly long amount of time. Looking up at you from where she lifted your leg so she could get behind your knee. The look in your eye startles you. You know that look. You know that look very well. With a sly smirk she hooks your left leg over her shoulder and kisses up your thigh. Then she moves to the other one, slowly reaching the point where you want her do be.

"It's been too long since I've-"

Rachel is interrupted by a bang on the door. "Hey, stop having sex and come down stairs," it's your fucking sister. You groan. But when your sister adds, "Steve and Eliot are here," you freak the hell out. You practically jump out of the shower and grab a towel.

No matter that you're turned on more than you've ever been in your life. No matter that it's been almost a week since you and Rachel have had any kind of sex. Rachel's dads, especially Steve, will murder you if they find out you're defiling their daughter.

When you look behind you, sitting in the shower, staring at you is a very sad puppy faced Rachel. She hasn't even bothered to turn the water off as it beats down on her. She's just looking at you.

"Don't you dare give me that face," You dry off as fast as possible.

"We live together," she huffs and stands, "We share a bed Quinn. It's not like they think that all we do is paint each other's nails and read magazines." She wretches off the water and gets out of the shower, picking up a spare towel.

"That's in our apartment, in our bed," you frantically towel dry your hair, "We're in Lima in my old bedroom."

"So?" she asks, teasingly drying off her breasts, taking way too long on each one.

"It's-it's-it's," truth is you can't think of a good reason why you can't have sex with your girlfriend in Lima, in your old bathroom. But Steve still scares you. Hell you're scared to even kiss Rachel in front of him. Finally you spit out, "It's Hanukah."

"You can't have Hanukah sex?" she drops her towel and puts her hands on her hips.

"Ugh," you just groan in frustration and wrap your towel around yourself. Then you throw open the bathroom door, charging out wondering what to wear.

You stop cold when you see your sister sitting on your bed with a sinister smile on her face. You frown at her and she cracks up laughing. Between laughs she chokes out, "When I said Rachel's dads, I really meant Brittany."

The edges of your vision get red and you lunge at your sister. A deceptively strong pair of arms wrap around your waist keeping your sister safe. "Uh oh," your sister mocks you, "Looks like someone didn't get to finish."

"Frannie would you be a dear and leave before I can't hold her back anymore," Rachel says somewhere in the pounding in your ears.

You calm down and Rachel rubs your back. Frannie ruffles your hair before she leaves, "I was just kidding, little sis."

You slap her hand away and cross your arms in a pout. After she leaves, Rachel moves to your closet to find something to wear. "Remind me to never let you go without an orgasm that long again."

Your head drops and you blush a deep shade of red. Now your sister knows what you were doing in the shower and your mom will soon know as will Ethan and Brittany. Sometimes you want to kill your sister.

Rachel walks back out with a light smile on her face. She looks you up and down before tossing an outfit on the bed. "How about I lock the door and finish? It's won't take long."

You don't remember nodding, but Rachel moves to the door, locks it and drops her towel. All the yearning and arousal that you had in the shower is back times ten. She saunters over to you and tugs at your towel until it pools around your feet. She tilts her head up and captures your lips. Her tongue doesn't hesitate to dive into your mouth, stroking every inch and swirling around your own.

A moan erupts from your throat and you shiver. After making sure she has your attention with a well placed hand on your stomach Rachel smiles up at you and bites her lip, "Bed?"

You glance at the door. Your sister knows that you're both up here alone and naked. Brittany's waiting for you. But you find your body moving on it's own, falling back on the bed and pulling Rachel down on top of you.

Of course being ever the tease, Rachel kisses you slowly for a few minutes before crawling off of you and saying it's rude to my guests wait. You should have seen it coming. She shoots you a devilish smirk before getting dress.

When you finally do get down to Brittany, you find her patiently waiting on the couch. She's tapping on her phone, concentrated on it until she's done. When she looks up, she smiles and stands to hug you.

You hold her around the waist, smiling at the way Brittany hugs. She hugs like she means it and you know that she always does.

When you step back you give her a smile, "Ready?"

She nods and follows you out to her car. Once inside the car she starts it and immediately music is playing. You smile and look over at Brittany who is looking behind her as she pulls out of the driveway. When she sees you looking she smiles and asks, "What?"

You just shake your head, "Nothing." You also love that Brittany doesn't pressure you. Anything you want to share with her you're going to and she won't prod unless it's in your best interest.

For as much as Brittany is Santana's, you feel like she's yours too. Not in the same way, but you've all bee friends for years. For as long as you remember, you've had Brittany to talk to. She's make time for you whenever you asked, although your notorious pride kept you from asking most of the time. She would always smile to try to make you feel better when you were in a sour mood. You couldn't have asked for a better friend than Brittany Susan Pierce.

You tell Brittany to avoid the Lima Bean because you've found that it's one of Jacob Ben Israel's haunts and the last thing you want is for the less respectful press to know where Rachel is.

You're surprised when Brittany pulls to a stop in front of your old high school. You look over at her and she immediately explains, "Every year since her sister died I invite Coach Sylvester to Christmas with my family. She never comes, but I don't want her to feel lonely. It won't take long and then we can go get lunch."

A giant smile grows on your face and once you're both out of the car, you hug Brittany for all your worth. There aren't enough people like her in this world.

She loops her arm through yours as you both walk toward the school. You don't ask her how she knows that Coach Sylvester will be at the school. You just allow her to walk you to the door and you hold the door open for her.

Your footfalls on the empty hallways, bounce around against the lockers. Brittany doesn't hesitate in front of Coach Sylvester's door. She politely knocks before opening it. Over Brittany's shoulder you can see Coach Sylvester sitting at her desk with her glasses perched on her nose writing furiously in her journal. When you looks up you see a smile twitch at the corner of her lip before she fends it off.

"Brittany," she looks at her watch, "You're two days early."

Brittany just give her former Coach a warm grin, "I thought maybe if I asked earlier this year, I could invite you before you could make other plans."

This time Coach Sylvester can't contain a miniscule smile. She leans back in her chair, takes off her glasses and crosses her arms, "I'll tell you what. Since you took initiative I'll think about it."

Brittany nods, "Thanks Coach."

When Sylvester's eyes land on you, you awkwardly smile, "Hey Coach."

She nods to you, "Q."

You decide that it is the holidays and everyone should be nicer like Brittany, "I'm having a Zot Hanukah dinner at my house tonight. We'd enjoy it if you were there."

Coach Sylvester flexes her jaw and surveys you. With a deep breath she rests her head back on her chair, "I'll think about it."

You just nod accepting that she probably just shot you down, but you extended a hand anyway. Brittany shoots one last smile to Coach Sylvester before waving, "Happy Holidays Coach."

"Bye B, Q," she calls after you two walk down the hallway.

Brittany loops her arm around your shoulder and gives you a sideways hug, "That was sweet of you Quinn."

"I'm just trying to be more like you," you hug her back before you two run through the chilled air to her car.

When you do get the deli that you picked out, you remember why you asked Brittany here in the first place. Brittany's stirring her soup around and you take a bite of your sandwich. After a few minutes of just eating you look up at her, "Britt, Santana asked me to talk to you about-"

"About kids," she nods, "Yeah I know." She looks disappointed as she watches her soup swirl around in her bowl.

"I know you want kids," you reach across the table and take her hand, "And you will be the best mom in the whole world, but do you really think now is the best time?"

She let's out a long sigh. "No. I know it's not. I just…I look at Santana and she's so smart and beautiful. I know she doesn't think so, but she'd make a good mom too. I just…I don't know how to say it. I just want to have a baby with her."

You give her hand a squeeze, "Will you still want to have a baby with her in a year or two?"

She nods immediately.

You get up from your seat and sit in the booth next to her to hug her. After a brief hug you return to your seat. You eat in silence until she speaks up, "I got a new job offer."

"Really?" you ask with a smile, "As assistant choreographer?"

"Head choreographer," she grins back.

"That's great B," you add, "When do you start?"

"In January." The conversation is pleasant and easy after that. You did what you told Santana you'd do and now you're just going to catch up with Brittany.

When she drops you off at Rachel's dads' house, you stand in front of the front door. This is your first holiday with Rachel and your first holiday with her dads. You don't know how you're supposed to act or what you're going to do, but you're nervous as hell.

However when you knock all the door all your nerves are gone and replaced with laughter when you see Steve, Eliot, and Rachel all in various colored holiday sweaters. That is, you laugh until they show you yours.


	39. Chapter 39

"It itches," you state.

"No it doesn't," Rachel rolls her eyes.

You look down, "It's not my color?"

"Since when is green not your color?"

"Well it-"

Rachel cuts you off, "If you don't want to wear it you don't have to, but Grandma Berry started knitting these for us in October."

You soften. Now you can't take it off. You adjust the oversized sweater and give up, "Fine. There's nothing wrong with it. I'll wear it. Tell Grandma Berry I said thanks."

Rachel giggles and kisses you before sashaying off, "Grandma Berry doesn't know how to knit. Daddy bought these online."

"Rachel!"

You hear Steve chuckle from behind you. "Eliot pulled the Grandma Berry thing on our first Christmas together. At least yours is too big. Mine was two sizes too small."

You go with it, "What are we going to do with them?"

He laughs and put his arm around your shoulders, "I guess we'll just have to keep them and find some way to get them back."

"You say that like you have something in mind," you look up at him.

He smiles at you, "When the time comes you'll know."

You and Steve join Rachel and Eliot in the kitchen. Apparently there is going to be an army of people at Hanukah dinner because Eliot is running around the kitchen while Rachel follows him to nibble on everything. He tries to swat her away, but she's persistent.

"I can only eat off of the sides because none of this is vegan," she whines.

Eliot's eyes get wide, "Oh my gosh honey I forgot. I was so worried about your Aunt Maggie's peanut allergies and Steve's mom's complete dislike of everything I touch."

Steve puts his hands on his husband's shoulders and kisses the top of his head, "She doesn't dislike everything you touch. She still likes me."

You laugh and Rachel pretends to gag. She looks at you so you two can share a smile before she let's out a completely different smile. She walks over to you and hugs your waist, "Baby?"

"Yes dear?" you ask her, knowing that she wants something.

"Since it's the last day of Hanukah and I got you a spectacular present," she leaves a baiting kiss on your lips, "Will you please make me some of your magic vegan food? I'll help."

"You mean you'll try to eat as much of it as you can before I even get it into a pan?" you ask.

She stands on her toes to whisper into your ear, "Or we can go upstairs and I can eat something else." She punctuates that with a soft nibble on your ear.

You look around and feel your heart rate pick up. You bite your lip and try to decide what to do. You really, really want to go upstairs, but Rachel's dads are right here. You take a deep breath and finally decide. "How about we wait until we go back to my house? Getting caught by your dads is not something I really want to happen."

There's a look in Rachel's eyes that tells you that she's going to remember exactly what you promised. You also have a sinking feeling that she's doing to tease you until you actually make it to your mom's house.

You quickly whip up one of Rachel's favorite sandwiches so she can eat before you get back to your house. You're sure your mom took into consideration her daughter's vegan girlfriend, someone she still fangirls over sometimes.

You don't know how the next few hours went by so fast, but you're being herded back to your house by the Berrys. When you get there though, there are cars parked all along the street, including one suspicious looking red Corvette with a giant, white "C" on the side and a license plate that simply reads '#1'.

"Wow," Eliot grins, "Your mom sure knows how to celebrate Hanukah."

"Yeah she does," you grab Rachel's hand and lace your fingers through hers. You have a feeling that you're going to want to hide behind her stardom for a while. Luckily, she knows you and knows what you're trying to do and doesn't mind at all.

Your mom invited everyone she knows as well as their parents and children. There is food and drinks all over every flat surface in the house and people everywhere you turn. Rachel breaks away from you when she sees some people she knows and you set off to find your mother.

You run into your sister first and she takes your arm, dragging you to the living room. You both stand against the walls and she whispers, "Okay, so what do you think of Ethan?"

You furrow your eyebrows at her and look around, "He's great. He's one of my best friends."

"So he's not like the lying, cheating, tell you he's going on a business trip when he's really schtupping the receptionist at the YMCA kinda guy?" she asks.

You blink, "Are we all Jewish now?"

"Quinn," your sister barks, "I'm being serious."

"He's definitely not like that," you assure her. "He's a good guy. He's a painter and a handyman and he can cook."

Your sister hugs you, "Okay, so you're selling my house and you're going to find me somewhere to live in New York. Money is no object because alimony is my friend." She hugs you again and doesn't hesitate before walking off, disappearing into the crowd.

You look after her before what she just spouted out makes sense. A slow smile spreads across your face. Now you have to talk to your mom. Rachel is going to be so happy.

You're looking for Rachel now when you bump into a girl who is staring at her phone while she's walking. You dip your head down to get a good look at her and gasp, "Lil' B?"

She briefly looks up at you with a huff and a forced smile, "Hey Q. Britt's somewhere-"she gestures vaguely behind you, "Great party." Then her face is back in her phone and she walks off. Brittany's sister remind you of you when you were in high school. You sort of feel sorry for her, but hope it turns out for her as well as it did for you.

You follow her directions and do find Brittany. Your blonde friend is leaning back up against the wall of the den, watching through the doorway of the kitchen with an enamored smile on her face. You saddle up next to her and follow her eyes. You immediately spot Santana, kneeling down next to a little brunette boy and a blonde haired blue-eyed girl. They look about four, but you're no judge of children's ages. They're both talking to her and she smiles and listens. Then she reaches up on the counter and grabs two menorah cookies, handing them to the kids. Then she stands, picks up the little boy who sets his head on her shoulder and she takes the little girls hand, leading them out of view.

"Now even _I_ want to have kids with her," you give Brittany a hug.

She laughs and agrees; "Now you see what I was saying." She lets out a sigh and looks longingly at the doorway where Santana was, "Maybe in a few years."

Brittany takes off after Santana, leaving you to stand awkwardly by yourself. You never considered yourself a wallflower, but there are so many people here that you're slightly intimidated.

A familiar voice cuts through the air and you spot the one and only Coach Sylvester standing in the middle of a group telling some kind of war story. Everyone around her is rapt with her words handing on every single one of them. She emphatically gestures with her hand and then acts out some kind of stabbing. People gasp, but don't look away. You smile to yourself. That was your favorite pre-competition pep talks.

You find a nice corner of the room where you can watch people milling around. You don't know most of them, but you're pretty sure that you can pick out all of Brittany's cousins and Santana's uncles. You can definitely tell who is a Berry and who is from Steve's side of the family. You spot Ethan a few times and he's usually following Frannie around. They're cute together and you're glad that your sister isn't dating a cheating bastard. Occasionally a random relative of yours will sit down next to you and tells you that the last time they saw you, you were knee high. Even if you saw them a few months ago at your mom's birthday.

The party wears on and a familiar feeling takes over. You swallow and try to ward it off, but as usual the feeling is winning. So you sneak away upstairs. Once in your old bedroom, you close the door and sit on your bed.

This feeling happens every year around this time. It's not a nice group of feelings. It eats away at you until you distract yourself with decorating or cooking or wrapping presents. This year all that has been done for you so you're left alone with this feeling.

You slowly turn your head toward the closed closet door. It's still filled with your high school clothes as well as a few keepsakes and a plain brown box in the back. It's what's in the box that will upset you most, but you know that you can't stop yourself.

The box is wedged on the top shelf of your closet and it takes you a while to get it down. You don't remember it being that heavy and it drags you to the ground with it. You trail your finger along the flap of the box trying to decide if you should open it or not. You can visualize the exact contents of the box without even opening it and opening will definitely open old wounds.

Your hands betray your heart when they flip it open. Different sized boxes, wrapped in different colored wrapping paper, all holiday themed, are sitting perfectly in the box. Just like you left them.

You take them out, one by one, remembering what is in each one. The tears start with just one, but soon join together to form a steady stream rolling down your cheeks. This grip on your heart is squeezing you until you can't breathe. You shouldn't be doing this. Not tonight. Not now.

"Quinn?" you hear her call you. You don't answer back in hopes that she'll just look elsewhere so you can sneak to the bathroom and make it look like you haven't been crying in your closet.

Of course your body involuntarily sniffles at that moment and seconds later Rachel is looking at you from the door. She doesn't ask you what's wrong immediately. She looks at all the wrapped gifts on the floor. You look at then too and on more than one you can see that on the gift tag right behind "To:" it says Beth.

Rachel kneels down next to you and brushes your hair away from your face. Then she cradles the back of your head and kisses your temple. "Do you want me to go?"

You can't manage words so you tug on her sleeve and she moves to sit next to you against the wall.

This may look crazy so you decide to explain as soon as you can, "I buy her a present every year."  
She slides her arm around your waist and you take comfort in her touch. She's slowly stroking your side.

You've never talked to anyone about Beth besides Puck but if there's ever going to be anyone else, it's going to be Rachel. "I know it was the right thing to do but during the holidays when I see my family and their families... Their kids I just... I miss her. It's stupid though. I don't even know what she looks like."

"It's not stupid," is all Rachel says. She doesn't offer any advice or ask any questions. She just holds you and let's you decide what's going to happen.

You finally let out something that you haven't even told Puck. "I don't... What if you want kids and I'm too scared that Beth will think I didn't want her enough? That my new kids are better?"

She doesn't speak for a long moment and finally you look up at her. You're scared that you went too far. In your mind you're already with Rachel forever and kids is logical eventually. She gives you a kiss on the cheek and says, "We'll cross that bridge when we get there."

You lean harder into her and pull her arm tighter around you. "I'm sorry."

"Don't be," she holds your head against her shoulder, "You have nothing to be sorry for."

"I shouldn't be sulking when there's all kinds of family downstairs and Coach Sylvester. I shouldn't be bringing you down too or bringing up hypothetical children that you may or may not want and dragging them into this."

"It's natural for you to feel this way babe," she murmurs soothingly to you. "Everyone downstairs, including Coach Sylvester, loves you. They'd understand. As far as our hypothetical children, they'll understand as well."

You chuckle and tilt your head up to kiss the underside of her jaw. "Thanks."

She brushes her lips against yours before she helps you pick up the presents and carefully put them back. Then she closes the box and helps you replace it. Your strange holiday ritual is done and this time you didn't have to do it alone.

Rachel's sitting on the bed, waiting for you when you step out of the bathroom from washing your face and touching up your make-up. She looks up at you with a loving smile, "Ready?"

You stop in the doorway of the bathroom and lean on it, looking at her. You can't get over how sweet and supportive she is. How perfect she is. Even more perfect that you ever imagined when you weren't with her.

Her smile fades and she tilts her head, "What's wrong?"

You shake your head and walk over to her. You swoop down and soon your mouth is covering hers. Her hands rest of your hips momentarily before pulling you down onto her lap. You're knees hit the bed softly and her hands find her face instantly. Her smooth skin under your fingertips electrifies you. You swear that if you could rip your lips away from hers long enough, that you would be able to see the actual sparks.

She kisses you deeply, occasionally biting down on your bottom lips, sending all that electricity between your legs. You can't help, but roll your hips forward trying to get some friction against her.

Rachel grins and pulls back from the kiss, nipping down your neck as her hands slowly move to your ass. "You really want to do this now?"

There's no answer. You don't need one because you've pulled your sweater off, over your head and have already pushed her onto her back in the time it would have taken you to say yes.

When she bites her lip, taking in the sight of your bra clad breasts, a shiver rolls through your body. The lust in her eyes makes you all that much more wet.

You almost don't register her flipping you over or your lack of a bra until her tongue is trailing around your quickly tightening nipple. You reach up and grip her hair, pulling her harder against you. She knows your body better than you do. She knows the secret places to nip that that make you moan.

When your hands sneak under her shirt, the soft skin of her breast teases your fingers. You palm both of them and she arches into your hands. When she moans your name you're exponentially more turned on.

You want to touch her in the most intimate of places, but you look up into her face first. You catch her eyes and they're filled with lust and love and deep desire. When you pull at her shirt, she sits up for you to remove it. You're so delighted to see her braless chest exposed in the chilly air of your bedroom. She's either really turned on or really cold and it doesn't matter before you have one of her nipples in your mouth swirling your tongue around it until her chest is heaving.

"No…" she pants, "No more teasing."

You couldn't agree more. You flip her onto her back and shove your hand down the front of her tights. It's difficult to maneuver your hand because they're so right. But it works in your favor when you slip a finger inside of her. She's so hot that your finger feels like it's burning, but it feels so good. When you look up at your girlfriend her head is thrown back, her jaw slack. You decide that that you need to see all of her.

She groans when you pull your finger out, but her eyes roll back when you slowly lick it clean. She whines, "Quinn, I said no teasing."

"I'm trying," you wink at her and pull her tights down, flinging them across the room. You take a moment to revel in your glistening goddess. Your heart catches mid-beat and you swallow a predatory growl. No one has ever made you feel this out of control, but every instinct you have is hell bent on making her come as many times as possible.

You position yourself between her legs and run your fingers the length of her slit before plunging two of them in as far as they can go. Her fingers grab at your bare back, trying to pull you down to her. You dip your head down and kiss her deeply, her moans reverberating from her mouth into yours and down through the rest of your body.

"Oh Quinn…" she pants into your mouth. Your lips are connected, but her panting fills the air. She clenches around your fingers, her orgasm building into something massive. You roll your hips with each thrust, using the extra force to reach deeper inside of her; trying to give her the greatest pleasure possible.

Suddenly all of her muscles clench around your fingers and you ease them in and out, feeling the pulsing around your fingers start to slow. Her eyes are squeezed shut and her whole back is arched off of the bed. She's so beautiful that you can't take your eyes off of her.

She lulls her head to the side with a sated smile. Her hands slowly move to your cheeks and pull you down for a long kiss. Your tongues slide against each other in a beautiful practiced dance. She ends it with a peck on your lips, "You can pull out now."

You look down and notice that your fingers are still buried deep inside of her. You blush and withdraw them, immediately missing the feeling of being so deeply, physically connected to her.

"Isn't Hanukah sex the best?" she asks you with a playful smile.

You kiss her and roll off of her onto the bed next to her. "Definitely." Although you're extremely turned on you're happy that she's happy. You're ready to ignore your needs and follow her back down to the party.

Of course she has other plans. When her lips connect with the inside of your left thigh your head drops onto the pillow behind you. "Rach, you don't have to." You say that but you really, really want her to.

"I know I don't have to," She kisses the inside of your right thigh before hooking her fingers in the waistband of your panties and slowly pulling them down. You feel exposed, but when she pushes your legs apart. You swear you see her lick her lips as she looks at the newly exposed territory. "But God I want to."

Her words send another shiver through you. When her lips connect with your sex you see stars explode behind your eyelids.

This time no one interrupts or walk in on you. There are no phone calls, no text messages, no knocks on the door. You're not sure it's locked and you're not sure you care. All you can think of is Rachel's tongue, dipping in and out of your at a pace that you're sure will make you explode if you don't climax soon.

Luckily it doesn't take long. You come with your hand tangled in Rachel's hair, not guiding or not pressuring, but just being connected. After your heart rate calms, Rachel's head rises with a smile. It's a sneaky smile and you're not sure what you she's going to do.

You find out when her fingers take residence where her mouth just was. Two fingers gingerly slide in and out of you as she kisses your neck and then your lips. You're not expecting it, but you're not going to stop her. Especially when she adds a third finger that stretches you a little more.

You lace your fingers together behind Rachel's neck and pull her into a deeper kiss. You can taste yourself in her mouth when your tongue dances with hers. You moan deeply. Her fingers are buried inside of you, her lips are one yours and your breasts are brushing together deliciously. If you could be like this for the rest of your life you probably would. You're convinced that there's nothing better than this.

This time when you come, you let out a soft sigh into her mouth pulling her body down on top of yours. "Rach," you pant, trying to get your brain to work against as she withdraws her fingers, "That was…"

She laughs at your lack of words and kisses you chastely. "It's holiday sex. So much better."

You pull her down next to you and wrap your arms around her. You're tired and you want to take a nap that you know you're not going to get. But you're going to revel in this moment. You're going to snuggle with her until guilt catches up with you and you both get dressed to rejoin the party.

Her fingers tenderly run through your tousled hair, "It means a lot to me that you opened up to me like you did. Thank you."

You prop your head up and look at her. Her gaze is so devastatingly loving that it takes you a while to formulate a response. "Thank you for listening and not thinking that I'm crazy."

She smiles and kisses you, "I love listening to you about anything."

"I love you," you say back with a cheesy smile.

Her head falls back in a laugh, "I love you too."

You pick up her hand that's resting on your stomach and lace your fingers together, "So Hanukah sex?"

"I know right?" she winks and rolls off of the bed, pulling you with her.

You both get dressed and after a few minor cosmetic repairs in the bathroom mirror you both seamlessly return to the party. Of course as you're walking down the stairs, you finally find your mom when you're hoping to avoid her. Rachel gives your mom a shy smile and pulls you away.

You drop your head and walk past her, "Hi, mom."

You can hear her laugh as you walk by, "Have fun?"

"Oh god," you murmur. You're going to die. If your mom knows then-

"I heard you were getting it on with Berry upstairs" – Santana

"Jesus Quinn, it's a Hanukah party" – Frannie

"High five!" – where did Puck come from?

"Can we use your room?" – Brittany

"I'm going to die. Right here, right now," you tell Rachel as you're both in the kitchen getting some water.

She laughs, "It was so worth it."

"So much," you agree and lift your cup up toward her, "To Hanukah sex?"

"To Hanukah sex," she taps her cup to yours and you both drink, keeping eye contact as you drink before you both burst out laughing. People are going to think you're both nuts but you don't care as long as everyone knows you're nuts together.


	40. Chapter 40

The clean up from the party took half of the next day. Of course that's half a day of half-hearted cleaning and online house hunting. As soon as you told Rachel that Frannie was moving, she demanded that you start looking for adjacent houses for your mom and her dads in the Lake George area by the Adirondacks. Her dads haven't actually agreed to move yet, but she's already on the phone with her accountant talking about how much she could spend on a house for them. She figures that if she has some really pretty pictures to show them of their new home that that may convince them that New York is the place for them.

You dread actually having to move your mom and sister from Lima to New York because Frannie has given you a one-month window to move them. You have from the middle of January to the middle of February. Your mom hasn't actually said yes either, but you know she's going to so you're putting her on the same timeline as Frannie.

That also happens to be the exact same month that Blaine and Kurt are moving to New York as well as (you heard from Brittany) Puck and Lauren. Brittany's fantasizing about the whole glee club moving to New York, but Sam got Mercedes to move to Austin and you'd have to pry Seattle out of Artie and Tina's cold dead hands. Of course you figure that Finn's going to follow Puck to New York. So you're going to have to find a place for Puck and Lauren and a place for Finn. Real Estate is haunting you and you feel like you'll never be able to shake it.

You think that you've found a small cottage type house for your mother when you feel two arms wrap around your waist. Rachel brushes you hair away from your neck and places a gentle kiss there, "So how's it going?"

"Are your dads more cottage style or ranch style?" you ask her taking a sip of your coffee.

"If it's more in the mountains they'd want a chalet kind of thing, but if it's closer to the lake then probably cottage-y," she says.

"I know you have your heart set on Lake George," you say, "But I found some really great houses by Lake Champlain."

She looks over your screen and takes a deep breath, "Whatever you think babe."

"How about the Vermont side of Lake Champlain?"

"The whole point of this was to move them closer to me," she pretends to be exasperated.

You tilt your head and rest it against hers, "Vermont is still closer than Ohio."

"So is New Jersey, but not fathers of mine will live in New Jersey," she kisses your cheek and pulls away to get the coffee pot.

As she's refilling your mug, you smirk, "Vermont is definitely not New Jersey."

"So Vermont is okay?" you ask.

She nods, "The part of Vermont touching a lake or New York."

You continue your search with Rachel pressed against your back. Her chin is resting on your shoulder as she looks over all the listings with you. You both stand there for almost half an hour before Frannie bitches enough to get your mom to coerce you into helping finish the cleaning.

And as promised, as soon as the menorah is put into a box for storage, Frannie gets the Christmas tree down from the attic. With everyone's help, it's quickly decorated and you're all surprised by the number of presents under it.

"How am I going to be able to keep my hands off of my presents until Christmas?" Rachel asks you as you both sit on the couch and admire the tree with everyone else. "That's why I do Hanukah better. I get a present everyday for eight days. Except this year of course."

You kiss her cheek, "Next year I'll spread all of your presents over Hanukah, okay?"

"How about I get eight presents over Hanukah and a whole bunch of them on Christmas?" she asks with a cheeky grin.

You just laugh with her and slip your arm around her shoulders. She snuggles into your side with a content sigh.

"Do we get to open one on Christmas Eve like when we were little?" Frannie asks you mother.

Your mother is sitting in an armchair, sipping on some tea, "I don't see why not."

"Can we go caroling?" Rachel whispers to you.

You giggle, "No."

"Why not?" she gives you her best pout complete with her puppy dog eyes.

"Because…" You're suddenly struggling for a good reason not to.

"I wanna go," Frannie states with a smirk. You know she said that so you would be outvoted and have to go even if you didn't want to. You narrow your eyes at her, but she just quirks a challenging eyebrow.

Your mom even voices her support. Ethan just shrugs and you're sure he'd go along with whatever all of you wanted to do.

"Okay fine," you tell Rachel, "But only to people's houses we know."

Rachel starts counting off on her fingers, "Okay we have the Lopez-Pierces, the Hudson-Hummels, the Schuesters, Coach Sylvester, I think Mercedes is in town, the Puckermans…" she trails off and stands up, mumbling something about a set list. You face palm and fall over on the couch.

You convince Rachel to hold off on the caroling until Christmas Eve so that her dads can come too. She looks so cute in her little knit beret with her green scarf in the light of the Christmas decorations. Her cheeks are pink from the cold and she hasn't stopped smiling. It's like you can't stop kissing her and you haven't left your driveway yet.

Ethan physically pulls you away from her and throws you over his shoulder so you can get the show on the road. Rachel laughs and trots after the group, clutching her folder containing the sheet music against her chest.

Rachel insisted on walking and even made a detailed map of your route. The closest house is the Joneses' where she has on good authority that Mercedes is home with Sam for the holidays.

Your mom rings the doorbell and then huddles up next to your sister. The front door opens and sure enough Sam is standing there in a blue sweater and faded jeans. He smiles when you all start singing 'O Holy Night'. He turns around and calls to the rest of the house. Soon they're all standing around the front door and you see even a few little faces looking out the windows.

Rachel gets Sam and Mercedes to join the group as well as Mercedes' mother and aunt. Rachel hands out maps and music to the new members and you all take off on the next stop.

As you sing 'We Need A Little Christmas' in front of the Pierce house, the Lopez family arrives in multiple cars. It seems they were planning on spending Christmas Eve as one huge family which you find absolutely endearing. Everyone sings along with you and much to your surprise Santana is the one dragging Brittany out the door to join you with Brittany's little sister running out after them, encouraging Coach Sylvester, who was apparently in the house enjoying a Pierce family Christmas, to follow.

Brittany gets Rachel to change the order of your songs as you walk to the next house on the route. Mercedes texted ahead of time and when you get to the Hudson-Hummel house, Blaine and Kurt are outside warming up their vocal chords. Carol Hummel greets everyone with hot cocoa and fresh cookies. When Rachel politely declines you hand her the small thermos you've been carrying in your purse.

"What's this?" she asks.

"It may or may not be vegan hot cocoa," you smile at her with a wink.

She throws her arms around you and kisses you until a wolf whistle break you apart. You both look around and find the source of the whistle in your ex-husband who is grinning widely. Rachel bounds over to him and hugs him, "Isn't she phenomenal?"

Finn winks at you over the top of Rachel's head, "Definitely."

You and Rachel share the vegan cocoa before getting on with the singing. You, Mercedes, Brittany, Santana, and Rachel all sing 'God Rest Ye Merry Gentlemen' while everyone enjoys their snacks. You smile over at Brittany and Santana who are holding hands inside of Brittany's coat pocket as they looking lovingly at each other while they sing. When Santana takes a solo, Brittany looks on with complete adoration and when Rachel takes a solo, you do the same.

Blaine, Kurt and Finn join the cross-town trek. You stop at the Cohen-Chang (Last Christmas) and Abrams (Deck The Rooftop) houses even though Artie and Tina are still in Seattle. Artie's brother takes a video and sends it to them almost immediately. When you get to the next house on the list, you all get a text from Artie and Tina telling you how much they loved the caroling and how they wish they could be there, but Riley doesn't travel well yet.

When you get to the Puckerman house, it seems that Puck is already getting his carol on because he's singing quiet as he strums his guitar to Lauren. She looks up at the huge group of people and grins. Puck looks back at you and laughs. He calls his mom and sister out to the front porch and the whole group sings 'Jingle Bells' lead by Puck and Finn.

Puck hugs and kisses him mom on the cheek before joining you. Puck's sister follows as she's best friends with Brittany's sister who is in this huge group.

The last planned stop on the map is Mr. Schue's house. As you all hum out the first few bars of 'The Most Beautiful Day of the Year' he picks up his little girl who is humming along with you as Emma appears behind them.

Mercedes's aunt gets everyone to a wide area in front of a church where you all sing to passing cars and people walking in and out of the church.

It's started to snow and all the little children (and Finn, Blaine, Puck, Brittany, Santana and Mr. Schue) are running around throwing snowballs. Rachel pulls you to her during a song break. She says it's for warmth, but when you open up your coat for her to slip her arms into, the hands that rest on your back are warmer than you are. She tilts her head up and starts softly singing to you.

_Greeting cards have all been sent_

_The Christmas rush is through_

_But I still have one wish to make  
A special one for you _

_Merry Christmas darling  
We're apart that's true  
But I can dream and in my dreams  
I'm Christmas-ing with you_

A few people hear her singing and start quietly adding a perfectly harmonized echo. Rachel pulls away and sings to you with her dazzling smile pointed straight at you. You can't help, but smile back as she serenades you with an impromptu backup choir.

You feel her fingers lovingly stroking the small of your back. She doesn't raise her volume much or pull away from you at all. Her eyes are locked onto you and despite the subzero temperature, you're warm all over.

_Holidays are joyful  
There's always something new  
But every day's a holiday  
When I'm near to you  
The lights on my tree  
I wish you could see  
I wish it every day  
Logs on the fire  
Fill me with desire  
To see you and to say _

_That I wish you Merry Christmas  
Happy New Year, too  
I've just one wish  
On this Christmas Eve  
I wish I were with you_

The way she's looking at you along with the song and the snow, and just the general feeling of the whole night feel perfect. You feel like tonight couldn't get any better. You feel like tonight is the greatest night of your life.

_Logs on the fire  
Fill me with desire  
To see you and to say  
That I wish you Merry Christmas  
Happy New Year, too  
I've just one wish  
On this Christmas Eve  
I wish I were with you  
I wish I were with you_

She just looks at you, her eyes twinkling. Her rocks onto the toes and kisses you sweetly. When she pulls back she bites her lip nervously, "I love you Quinn."

"I love you too," you answer with a smile.

She looks at you for a few more seconds. Her eyes fill with tears and you start to panic, wondering what's wrong. She swallows them and smiles broadly. "Quinn I…" Then she glances around you. She withdraws from you and tells you to stay put.

You watch as she walks over to your mother and whispers in her ear. Your mother's eyes well up with tears and her hands shoot to cover her mouth as her eyes land on you. Your mother nods emphatically to Rachel before sweeping her up in a hug.

Everyone seems to be watching Rachel and you wonder what she's doing. She pulls Frannie, Santana, Brittany, Finn, Kurt and Puck into a small huddle and whispers to them. They all break out in huge smiles and nods. She then holds a small conference with her dads who hug her and kiss her head.

Rachel smiles to them before returning to you. She licks her lips and takes a deep breath. "Quinn I…I'm so in love with you."

You open our mouth to tell her that you've been in love with her since the second you saw her, but she keeps talking, "I wasn't actually planning on doing this until we've been together for exactly a year, but I can't wait anymore. I hope you can forgive my lack of a ring because as I said I wasn't planning on doing this for a few more months."

Your heart starts pumping at a mile a minute. She can't be doing what you think she's doing.

"I love you Quinn, more than I've ever loved…anyone," her eyes start shimmering with unshed tears. "You make me feel things that I was sure only happened in movies and plays. With you, I reach my highest highs…." She looks down before looking back up at you, "and you pick me up when I'm at my lowest lows." She takes both of your hands and you can feel her hands shaking. God, she cannot be asking what you think…what you hope she's asking you. Can she?

"Quinn," she takes a deep breath, "I know without a doubt that I will love you and care for you for the rest of my life and it seems like a monumental thing to ask of you, but Quinn…will you marry me?"

Tears are now streaming down your face. There's a collective gasp in the group circled around you. Your friends, family and a large percentage of strangers are waiting for your answer.

You let out a smile with a breathy laugh. You throw your arms around her and frantically whisper, "Yes, god yes."

She lets out a sob and holds you tightly against her. "Thank you. Thank you so much Quinn. I love you."

"I love you too," you pull away and throw yourself in to a kiss. The second your lips crash together you know that you just promised her forever with only a second's thought and you've never been more sure of anything.

Applause erupts around you. People are hugging their spouses, partners, girlfriends, boyfriends, best friends, sisters, and brothers. You feel the love all around you, but you can feel a bright shining beam of it shooting at you from the love of your life.

After the moment passes, people start going home. It's getting cold and the children have to get to bed before Santa comes.

You haven't let go of Rachel since she asked you what is now your favorite question in the whole world. When your mom hugs you in congratulations you ask them both what they talked about before Rachel proposed.

Your mom smiles as she dabs at the tears on her face with a tissue, "She asked for permission to ask you to marry her."

You turn to Rachel. She just shrugs and you kiss her again. She's so sweet and thoughtful even when she's spontaneous. Then you think of something else and ask her, "What about Brittany, Santana, Kurt, Frannie and all the rest of them?"

She shrugs nonchalantly, "The same thing. I wanted to make sure it was okay with everyone who loves you. Then I told my dads what I was going to do."

You throw your arms around her again and she laughs loudly, hugging you back. "I love you so much Rach."

"I love you too Quinn," she looks into your eyes and you know that, more than anything else in this world, it's true. She loves you with everything that she is and you love her. She's your world.

She leans in and kisses you, heating your entire body. You sigh contently into the kiss and lean forward as she tried to break it, keeping you lips together. She laughs into the kiss and you end up laughing with her.

When you're done laughing together, she brushes the bangs out of you face and gives you a peck on the lips, "Merry Christmas my darling Quinn."

You melt at her words and know that forever won't be long enough to spend with her.


	41. Chapter 41

"Wow, you're engaged. That must be exciting," the reporter says and thrusts the microphone between you both. "Tell us how that happened."

Rachel loves telling this story and you never tire of hearing it. But when the story ends your brain keeps going. It keeps remembering everything that happened after.

She got you a ring. A huge ring. You asked her if she wanted to astronauts to know you were engaged. She said she wanted aliens from other solar systems to know that you were taken.

New Years come and went. You both spent it in New York at some sort of black and white ball. You were both wearing sequined masks and flowing gowns. She made sure that everyone saw your ring and knew that you were engaged. You didn't even have a pull a Santana and shove it in everyone's face.

You set a date for your wedding by throwing darts at a piece of paper that had the dates for the next three year on it. You didn't do it in your apartment because you didn't have darts and Rachel didn't want to put holes in the walls. So you went to a sports bar down the street and hung it up on their dartboard. Rachel tried unsuccessfully (four times) to hit the calendar, but kept hitting the wall. On your second try you hit a date.

She hugged you right there in the bar and kissed you deeply. Then she was on her phone a second later, calling the wedding planner that you picked out.

Now you're at the Drama Desk Awards amusing all the reporters. All speculation of your relationship with Rachel is gone. Everyone knows. You're sure it was the giant rock on your left hand. It could be the almost as big rock on hers.

Rachel just smiles and looks at you, "I just…it happened all so perfectly. I can't imagine getting married to a more beautiful person. On the inside and…" She leans forward like she's sharing a secret with the reporter, " _the outside._ "

You and the reporter laugh. She's been so great through this whole mess. She was there for you during the opening night of your show with flowers and tears in her eyes. She was there when you read your first so-so review. She woke you up at five o'clock in the morning when the Times review came in. She read it to you word for word and tackles you on the bed, showering you with congratulatory kisses when it came out wonderfully.

She was also there when they announced the Drama Desk nominations for Outstanding Actress in a Musical and you found out that you were both nominated for the same award. You had no idea how that could happen. You're not on the same level as her. You're not of her caliber. Then you wondered if she was going to freak out. If this was going to cause your first major fight.

But she took it in stride. She congratulated you and kissed you, telling you that no matter what happens it won't change anything between you.

Of course you're still praying that she wins. She's the favorite anyway and after her Tony everyone assures you that she's a shoo-in.

"What's it like being engaged and competing for the same award?" the reporter asked.

You elegantly shake your head, "Have you seen her on stage?" you point to your fiancée, "There's no competition."

Rachel smiles lovingly at you and you can't help, but get caught in her gaze. After a few seconds the reporter clears his throat, "Thank you so much ladies. Good luck to you both."

"Thank you," Rachel says for both of you and you move on to the next one.

You hear a familiar laugh behind you. When you look back you see Santana and Brittany laughing with a reporter. You're proud of them. Santana's still the top med student in her class and Brittany is here for her nomination for Outstanding Choreography in a Musical. They're happier than ever. You watch as Santana protectively rests her hand on Brittany's almost unnoticeable baby bump and kisses her radiant wife on the cheek.

A tug on your hand tells you that you were just asked something and haven't been paying attention yet again. "I'm sorry," you say looking at the reporter.

"Any details about the wedding? Have you set a date and picked a venue?"

You nod and look to Rachel for what you're allowed to reveal. She just shrugs in a silent message that tells you to go with it. "August 24th at the Gershwin Theatre."

"Wow," the reporter looks very impressed, "How hard was that? To get the Gershwin?"

You let Rachel take that one. She just smiles, "Well, we had a move a few things around, but it's so worth it."

You still don't know how Rachel did it. She just showed up one evening and told you that you were getting married in the historic Gershwin. You could be wearing a t-shirt and getting married in the Starbucks down the street and you'd still be ecstatic.

"Is it going to be a theatrical wedding?" he asks.

"Oh yes," Rachel grins and goes on about how all of your friends are helping where they can. Kurt is designing the dresses and Lauren, Finn, and Puck are designing and building the set (you still can't believe that your wedding is going to have a 'set'). Blaine, Sam, and Santana are writing the songs that you'll walk down the isle to. Brittany and Mike are planning the movement. You didn't even know that that needed to be planned. Both your mom and her dads are supervising. You're starting to think that theatrical wedding is an understatement. You think you heard something about a choir and there's a bet between your friend whether or not Rachel will sing. You've got your money on yes.

Once you get inside the theatre and sit down, the empty seats for Brittany and Santana beside you, you kiss Rachel's cheek, "Don't forget me in your acceptance speech."

And she doesn't. When her name is called all of the cameras zoom in on both of you, like they're expecting some sort of fight or something. She just hugs you and kisses you and whispers that she loves you under the thundering applause.

You smile proudly because you're marrying that Tony/Drama Desk Award winning actress. You never expected to win at all. You're not even getting paid for all the work that you're doing. You've been living off of the sales of you mom's, your sister's and her dads' houses as well as the commission on their new purchases.

After the awards, instead of going to the after party you, Rachel, Brittany, and Santana meet, Rachel's dads and your mom and sister (plus her boyfriend) at a restaurant in Queens. Your sister has moved into a loft in Brooklyn and is currently working as an art broker and promoting Ethan's galleries.

Your mother and Rachel's dads moved to West Hurley which, not the place on Lake George Rachel wanted them on, is still a lovely town on the banks of the Ashokan Reservoir. They live two houses away from each other on the edge of the water.

At dinner you discuss the wedding and the award. Ethan pats your back and tells you that you'll win next time. You just shrug and tell him that you when you get married, it'll be half yours anyway. You don't perform on stage to win awards. You perform on stage because it makes you feel good. All those things you don't know how to say or are too scared to say out loud are released. You don't think you've ever been more happy or relaxed in your entire life.

You feel Rachel take your hand under the table and you're eyes immediately find hers. She pulls you in for a sweet kiss. You want more, but you're in a restaurant with your family. There will be time for some one-on-one time when you get home. You lean forward and graze your cheek against hers, whispering, "I'm so proud of you," in her ear.

Tears brim her eyes and she gives you a million watt smile. You have no idea why that elicits such a response from her, but if it makes her happy you'll tell her everyday for the rest of your life.

Your mom clears her throat and raises her glass, "I'd like to make a toast." Her eyes fall on Rachel, "You my dear are one of the loveliest people I've ever met. You're caring, considerate, and wildly talented. Everything I could ask for in a spouse for Quinn. I love you like my own and it's an immense joy to have you join the family officially."

Everyone clinks their glasses together and sips their drinks. You look over at Rachel who has gotten out of her seat to hug your mom. Across the table you find Frannie looking at you. She nods and smiles, "You did really great Quinn. I'm still trying to wrap my head around my little sister being nominated for a Drama Desk Award."

Honestly you are too. A Drama Desk Award? Never in a million years did you think that you'd ever be nominated for something like that. You were planning on living out the rest of your life in off-Broadway plays being the wife of a Broadway stunner. Now you're getting offers for audition for actual on-Broadway plays. It blows your mind. It really does.

About an hour later, Santana excuses herself to take Brittany home. Brittany smiles and hugs you telling you that Santana's just being over protective, she's not feeling all that sick, but she'll call you tomorrow.

Finally you and Rachel walk home together, hands swinging your hands between you. You both make a trail of your clothes up to the bedroom where you make love for hours. You know that the rush you get when you touch her will never go away.

As the months go on, Rachel gets another raise and you actually start getting paid. It's not a lot, but it's enough so that you never ever have to think about selling another house or apartment again for the rest of your life.

When your wedding rolls around, you're giddy. You get ready in one of the dressing rooms with Santana. She keeps texting Brittany to make sure that she feels okay. Brittany's not due for another three months, but Santana has been completely pampering Brittany, making sure she doesn't do anything too strenuous and pretty much hovering every second that she isn't in class or working.

You think it's cute and when you tell Santana she glares at you with a playful smile. She helps you into your dress and walks you to your starting point where your mom and Frannie are waiting to give you away. When the music starts, she walks you into the theatre and up the stairs that were set up on the other side. You look to your right and see Rachel ascending the stairs at the opposite end of the stage with her dads. Everything else fades out. You don't see the packed audience or the rest of the theatre. You see Rachel in her white gown, looking absolutely radiant.

Frannie has to pull you the rest of the way to the place where the rabbi is standing. You're sure that the set is absolutely stunning, but you can't take your eyes off of Rachel. She's looking back at you with love and tear filled eyes. You want to take her in your arms and kiss her, but you know that that's not until the end. Instead you reach over and take her hand smiling softly.

The rabbi starts talking, but you don't hear him. All you can hear and see is Rachel. Her eyes are locked onto yours and it's getting harder and harder not to kiss her.

You say your lines like you're supposed to and when Rachel steps on the glass that's under the towel you and says, "Mazel tov!" you finally get to kiss her. You feel her hands caressing your face as her lips slide against yours. It's the kiss to end all kisses. A kiss that rocks your world and shakes you down. It's a kiss that promises a future of forever with the woman of your dreams.

The ocean air feels good blowing against your skin. You're standing on the balcony of the villa you rented for the honeymoon. The sky the dotted with non-threatening clouds and the water is crystal clear. You take a deep breath and turn around. Inside the bedroom, Rachel is sleeping. She's naked until a sheet that snakes around her body modestly. She's understandably tired. After flying across an entire ocean and staying up all night making love with the ocean air blowing through the windows, it's a wonder you're not still passed out as well.

It's hard to think that just over a year ago this was a fantasy. Now Rachel Berry is your wife. You're beautiful, talented, generous, loving wife. You look down at the ring on your finger and smile. The metal against your skin reminds you that this is real. This is forever and this couldn't be more perfect.


End file.
